In Her Mother's Footsteps
by John Creel
Summary: Tragedy marks Holly Short's life. Her mother, Coral Short, was the last piece of family she had left, precious and irreplaceable. To lose her was to lose everything, and yet fate had no sympathy, nor did time. In this terrible tragedy Holly would find her true path in life, in her mother's footsteps, and that path would lead her to a boy named Artemis Fowl. Rated T for Lang & V.
1. Worlds Apart

**Author's Note:**

 **I know that I said I was done writing fanfics, but it turns out that I deceived myself, most unwittingly, leaving me just as surprised as anyone else. Currently I have been finding it hard to write anything, my muse having left me in a sense, and as a writer such a state of mind is extremely unsettling. Anyway, I contrived another short story for this fandom, as a way of keeping myself writing. I find it rather enjoyable to revisit this series and try my hand at it once again, just for the hell of it. This story is, admittedly, not the best I've written, but perhaps it's not the worst. Regardless, I hope that some of you enjoy it. On a more positive note, I will never again say that I am "done" with Artemis Fowl (Colfer and his infernal series seem intent on stalking me through life, hanging over my head like a veil and afflicting me with temptations). So yeah, I'm back...again. Cheers!**

* * *

 **Lower Commercial District, Haven City  
**

Traffic detail was difficult and infuriating on the best of days, and for Corporal Holly Short it was turning out to be one of the least favorable days of her career. There she stood, in the midst of the infrastructural travesty of Haven's congested boulevards, dressed in the infernal computerized traffic suit that made her look like a walking billboard. The suit was virtually a wearable road sign, displaying all of the common commands and showing her verbal orders in text across her chest plate. To wear it, let alone walk around on duty with it, was a thoroughly degrading experience, which was why the upper brass liked to put their least favorite subordinates on traffic detail. Holly was not one of those disliked officers, but because she was fresh out of the Academy and one of the uncommon female recruits in a predominately male hierarchy, it was not a huge surprise that her first taste of police work was bitter.

The fact that most recruits were in the same boat was of little consolation to her, because unlike many of them she was filled with an insatiable yearning for the extremes—for impossible adventures, danger and excitement, and selfless deeds that would actually help the People. Even as she directed traffic with a flat tone and a slight glare, she could envision the inside of an LEP shuttle's cockpit; she saw all the controls, felt the g-force-dampening seat beneath her and her flight helmet upon her head, and smelled the distinct scent that they all had. The sensation of opening the throttle, the roar of turbocharged engines, and the adrenaline rush that came with it was easy to remember, and easier to miss—like a wonderful past long lost to time, she gravitated towards its memory. It was almost distracting, but she was no fool. With her frustration kept just below the flashpoint, Corporal Short did her job, professional about everything despite the fact that she would rather be exchanging punches with a troll than deal with the rude, impatient fairies that became so common during rush hour.

To make matters worse, fate had concocted a wonderful set of circumstances to try both her sanity and her patience. Apart from it being the worst time of day on the worst day of the week for congestion, a herd of sweartoads had overrun the main overpass, forcing fifty-percent of the city's commuters through the smaller, less organized streets in the lower district. This logically meant a total disaster, a complete mishmash of accidents, road rage, disputes, infractions, and overall incivility. Holly watched as half of those incidents sprung up at once in her general vicinity in a matter of seconds, and she scowled at it all with a sweeping disdain. _And I have to put up with this for another three hours_. _Wonderful, just wonderful._

Across the boulevard from her was her partner, Corporal Finn Underwood. He was a recruit like her, albeit in the lower tiers, and despite his lack of experience it was good to have him around, if not only to lift some of the burden from her shoulders. Traffic detail was always too much work for a single officer, though two was ultimately not much of a difference.

A loud crash split the air the next moment, and Holly could feel little pieces of debris pinging against her as she turned to look; a few chunks of shattered glass glittered as they spiraled past her like throwing knives. Two small vehicles, both driven by clueless, distracted drivers, had struck each other at the intersection, causing one to flip over several times and the other to collide with a storefront. Chaos ensued when both drivers, seemingly unaware of the fact that they had just avoided death by a hair's breadth, got out and started giving each other a verbal lashing. They were both pixies, and judging by their appearance they had been driving while juggling their phones and overpriced specialty coffees—a very common ailment of the younger generations. Suppressing her anger and remembering the protocols, Holly started towards the scene, signaling her partner as she did so. The two of them would be more than enough to pacify the squabbling idiots.

"D'arvit, what the hell is wrong with people these days?" Holly muttered as she weaved through the parked traffic, scowling at anyone who looked at her. She was only a few car lengths away from the accident when something, by a very minute sliver of chance, caught her eye. She was passing a large transport, one of the largest ones she had ever seen, and when she gave it a glance she saw two pixies seated in the front, both staring back at her with expressions that were anything but normal. One of them inclined his head to speak into a communicator, and the other shifted uneasily. Holly noted these things in the second they occurred, but kept walking as if she had not noticed. When she was past the vehicle she turned back, and saw the blocky text along its side.

— _Two Dwarfs and a Truck—_

 _Curious…_ Holly thought, noting that it was a moving service as well. The fact that there were two pixies—that were not naturally the best at lifting things—and that they had reacted to her presence, made it evident that something was up. It was also obvious that the truck far surpassed the weight limit for the smaller boulevard, by almost three tons. Holly brought up her scanner and scanned the barcode on the transport, reading all of its registration information and checking for past infractions. She received a clean record, and no hints of theft, to which she frowned even more. Sometimes, when everything looked legitimate, it was the opposite, and in her gut she had that feeling. Truth was so very often hidden beneath a convincing veneer of lies.

Holly completely disregarded everything else for the moment. Turning on her heels, she walked back towards the transport and spoke into her communicator. "Finn, I have a potential five-o-three over here. I'm checking it out."

" _What about the dispute over here?"_ the corporal replied. The sound of the arguing pixies could be heard in the background.

"Let the paramedics sort them out, they're inbound, five minutes out. Now get over here."

There was a bit of doubt in Finn's voice, but only a little. _"Roger that, on my way."_

With her partner on the way, Holly walked in front of the motionless transport and used her traffic suit to signal for it to pull over to the side of the boulevard. It was nothing more than a routine traffic stop, at least that's how she wanted it to look, and to their credit the two pixies complied without hesitation. The massive vehicle roared and ponderously moved over so that traffic could pass, and then shut off its enormous engine. Holly stood where the driver could see her, and spoke into her microphone with the most disarming tone she could manage.

"Please exit the vehicle, citizens."

A side window rolled down, and the driver's head peeked out of it. "What for, officer?" he called out.

Holly spoke neutrally, keeping her cool. "You are past the weight limit for this road by almost three tons. _That_ is an infraction."

The driver furrowed his brow, and then turned to his colleague with an obvious air of vexation. They exchanged a hushed but very animated conversation, and then, seeming to reach a consensus, unbuckled themselves and climbed down out of the large compartment. Neither looked very pleased, and when they stood before Holly the driver tapped his watch purposefully.

"We're on a strict schedule, officer. And we had no choice but to use this road, what with all those sweartoads blocking the overpass."

"That does not change the fact that you are breaking the law," Holly replied coolly, studying the pixie for any more subtle indicators.

"Can't you just let us off with a warning?" the other pixie whined.

At that moment Corporal Finn appeared around the back of the truck in his resplendent traffic suit, much to the two pixies' discomfort. Holly never took her eyes from them for a second, and with Finn nearby she proceeded.

"Identification please."

The pixies were both wearing heavy jackets—perfect for concealing weapons—and when they reached into them Holly tensed up automatically, her right hand close to where her neutrino was holstered. When they produced their wallets she let herself relax a little, but only just. In her line of work, everything could change in an instant, in a flash that took all but a second and could very well dictate her survival. She had to be ready for anything, anytime, anywhere.

The pixies' citizenship cards were adequate for identification, and she scanned each of them carefully. It turned out that they were brothers: Talbot and Jarmil Bryth. Talbot was the driver of the transport, and evidently the more dominant of the pair; his gaze was hard, and his stance almost defiant, bespeaking a certain harshness of upbringing and a hidden resolve. Jarmil was the opposite: jumpy, uncertain, and undisciplined, clearly reliant upon his brother. Holly eyed each of their cards, and then scanned their barcodes to run an instant background check. She got nothing from it apart from a clean criminal record and a single parking ticket from ten years prior. Furthermore, their truck was not stolen, only recently acquired, and all of their registrations were up to date. Their presence on the road was understandable, and there were statutes in place that allowed for overweight loads in exceptional situations—they would easily win if they took the LEP to court over a ticket. In the end, there was every indication that they were upstanding citizens, not the shady kind she suspected them to be, and she could not give them a hard time over a simple weight infraction, not when they had the common law on their side. When she gave them back their cards, they seemed to know this as well.

"Are we free to go, officer?" Talbot asked expectantly, already backpedaling towards the truck. There was a discreet look of triumph on his face, one that Holly did not miss.

"Everything checks out," she admitted. "However, just to be sure I would like to inspect your cargo. What are you transporting today?"

Jarmil was fidgeting with his sleeves, and when asked this he shot a glance at his older brother. Talbot was much more composed, merely waving his hand and speaking normally, as if the question was of no consequence.

"Materials for the Haven Medical College, _fresh_ if you know what I mean. Real organs, synthetic organs, samples, meds, you name it. We're under contract to ship in these kind of things once and a while, when their main distribution channels are caught up. Currently I think that the truckers they use are on strike—gotta love unions, eh? Anyway, it's all in stasis pods of course, which is why the thing's so heavy. We usually pack less, but the strike's really backed up their orders and they need certain things pronto."

Holly nodded, and then gave her partner a look. "Cross-reference that with the college's administration."

Finn nodded and got to work on his datapad, which only took a minute to yield the information. "Yeah, it's them alright. They are expected to deliver this afternoon."

"Which is why we must get going," Talbot said insistently, gesturing at the traffic. "Our livelihood depends on punctuality."

"Sure thing, I'll let you go," Holly said, making both of the pixies smile until she added, "Once I inspect your cargo."

"Is that really necessary?" Jarmil asked, still fidgeting with his sleeves in a childish manner.

"I'm an officer of the law," she replied sternly, "I decide what's necessary."

Most officers would have already let them go, and even apologized for wasting their time, but not her. She had a feeling in her gut, an intuition that had never been wrong yet, and she dared not ignore it. Without another word to the two pixies, she started towards the rear of the truck, her stride long and her face set in a look of certainty. "Keep an eye on those two," she said offhandedly to Finn, who nodded without comment—he knew better than to get in her way when she had her mind set on something. Upon reaching the rear of the transport, Holly saw that it was locked securely with a robust system, one that would take forever to break via traditional methods. But she only grinned at it, as if it presented no more challenge than a piece of string holding a cupboard shut. With that smile still on her face she reached to her hip and grabbed her omnitool. Her mother, Coral, had given it to her on the day of her graduation from the Academy, and she held it dearly as a result. Taking it from her belt and holding it up before her, she could see her own name inscribed in silver lettering on its side and remember when she had first held it on that wonderful day. She had used it many times since then, and never had it failed her. It was the most reliable omnitool she had ever used. A perfect gift from a loving mother.

Holly put the tool up to the locking mechanism and activated it. A part of her always wondered when it would fail to open a way, but most of her believed that it would always succeed. This faith was rewarded, as in less than ten seconds the heavy lock was disarmed, letting her swing the large steel doors outward. With a smile she climbed up into the compartment, all the while thanking her beloved mother for the reliable tool.

The interior of the transport was illuminated by white lights, the sort one would see in an operating room, and its appearance was explicitly sterile. Everything was clean and polished, the very definition of immaculate, and the massive stasis pods were sealed and humming softly. Eighteen of them were lined up in levels of three, each labeled for their specific contents and securely locked. Holly walked up to the first one and read the label, and thought about opening it just to make sure. She was about to do so when she realized that the length of the compartment was odd—it was shorter than that model of transport should have had. This realization led her to the far wall, and with a serious expression she tapped her omnitool against it. _Thud, thud, thud._ It made a distinct sound, and it made her day as well.

"Trying to hide something are we?" she said, holstering her omnitool and using both hands to search for a way through. She found it surprisingly fast. There was a hidden switch flush with the steel wall, barely visible to a keen eye. _You'd think they could have afforded a retina scanner or something a little less cliché,_ she thought, pushing it carefully. There was a loud click, followed by a groan as the wall split in the middle and swung outwards. Holly turned on her helmet's lamp and walked into the dark space beyond, her wits about her and her hand ready to draw her blaster. The secret room was filled with containers, all of them stasis pods, and none of them were labeled this time. What was in them? What were the two pixies hiding? Well, there was only one way to find out.

Holly approached the nearest pod and, without any concern for the sanctity of private property, punched the button that was supposed to open it. When it didn't open, and instead prompted for her to provide a password, she drew her neutrino and unceremoniously shot it point blank. The locking panel melted into slag, and Holly nudged the lid open with the barrel of her blaster. What met her was the nauseating stench of shellfish, and the very obvious sight of lobsters—hundreds of them crammed into a single stasis pod. It was so unsurprising that Holly actually smirked. Pixies, with their obsessive fixation for illegal shellfish, oftentimes resorted to smuggling in order to sate both their own desires as well as that of the underground businesses that catered to them. Believe it or not, lobsters sold faster than firearms on Haven's black market, and for twice as much.

"Upstanding citizens my ass," Holly growled as she shut the stasis pod. She climbed out of the transport and walked back around to where Corporal Finn was keeping an eye on the Bryth brothers. The two pixies were looking at her carefully, their eyes calculating—pixies were cunning creatures, swift and intelligent—and when she got close to them she pointed back to the transport.

"Care to explain the undeclared culinary goods in the back?"

What happened next was swift and unforgiving, as sudden as the lancing of a lightning bolt from a blackened sky. Upon hearing those words from Corporal Short, Jarmil's eyes went wide and his mouth opened in surprise. There was fear, astonishment, and irrational panic in those eyes, and such emotions bled into his actions. With surprising speed, the pixie reached into his jacket and produced a laser pistol, which he fired immediately into the chest of Corporal Finn.

All of this happened in slow motion for Holly—the drawing of the weapon, the panicked aim, the red glare of the laser bolt—and as her partner was shot, her training kicked in like a hidden gear, capturing every fiber of her being and laying it on a reckless course. She was suddenly filled with adrenaline and fiery determination—and anger, an incomprehensible anger. Jarmil was aiming his weapon towards her now, and Talbot was reaching into his jacket. Two versus one, at close range no less. Poor odds for them.

Without a moment's hesitation Holly ducked, and a split-second later a sizzling bolt of energy shot over her head. Forwards she charged, having no time to draw her blaster in the heat of the moment. With a growl she kicked Jarmil square in the gut, sending him tumbling backwards into the side of the transport, and almost simultaneously she grabbed the other pixie by the collar and drove him down into her raised knee, making him drop the weapon he had been drawing. As Talbot stumbled back his brother was up again, firing inaccurately with his weapon. Shot after shot screamed past Holly , who dodged them just barely, one of them coming close enough to melt her helmet's visor. In the adrenaline rush she was in, the elf did not even pause, not even when most would have been paralyzed by terror. She ducked another shot, tore off her ruined helmet, and swung it into the side of Jarmil's head, shattering its damaged visor and more than likely fracturing part of his skull. As the pixie fell backwards she drew her neutrino and rapidly fired six shots into his chest, knocking him out cold.

With one of her opponents neutralized, Holly spun about to meet the other. Talbot was scrambling for his blaster, which was on the road a few meters away, and to his credit he managed to grab it and fire accurately before Holly could put a neutrino shot into his rear end.

"D'arvit!" she cursed as a burst of hot laser bolts screamed around her, one of them clipping her traffic suit. She threw herself to the ground, unable to return fire amidst the fusillade of shots, and rolled several times until she was behind the fallen Jarmil. It was a shameful tactic to use her attacker's brother as a shield, but it saved her life, and that's all that mattered at the moment—survival, nothing else. Her breathing was steady and her pulse quick; she could hear it thumping in her ears, and feel the energy rushing through her body. This was the first time she had come so close to death, and her first real gunfight apart from all of the simulations she had done in the academy. This was real. Error meant death. She waited, listening for her enemy.

With his target where it was, Talbot was forced to stop shooting. He cursed under his breath, fearful for his brother and also infuriated by how out of hand things had gotten. Their gunfight had turned the entire street into a mass of panicking civilians, and that was bound to attract a heavy police response. What was worse, his brother had lost his cool and shot an LEP officer—a grave mistake given the consequences. "Of all the days there had to be sweartoads blocking that blasted road!" he rasped, switching his pistol to fully automatic.

Holly heard him speak, heard the click of the weapon's switch, and even though she was prone behind an unconscious pixie she could tell where he was exactly. With a determined glare the elf rolled back out into the open, this time with her blaster aimed and her eyes locked on her target. There he was, only twenty feet away, raising his weapon to fire upon her. She fired first.

The neutrino blast was aimed at his upper chest, but the movement of his hand made it so that it struck his weapon instead. The force of the energy impact knocked the laser pistol from his grip, and he jumped back desperately to avoid the following shots. Using the transport as cover, Talbot got out of Holly's line of sight and started running as fast as he could across the boulevard.

Holly was on her feet in an instant, and once she was sure the pixie had retreated, she rushed to her fallen partner's side. Even though an armed and dangerous fairy was on the loose, her colleague's well-being was paramount. She would not forgive herself if someone died on her watch.

"Finn. Finn!" she yelled, tapping the ground next to his head with the barrel of her neutrino. At first she thought that the laser shot had gone straight through him, but a closer inspection revealed that the traffic suit, with all of its circuitry and material, had diffused the worst of the impact, leaving only a second-degree burn on his body; his magic was healing it steadily. This made Holly grin despite herself. "That stupid suit is actually good for something."

Finn stirred—his fall had knocked him out—and when he opened his eyes he spoke in a tired, uncertain voice. "Am I dead?"

Holly put her hand on his shoulder, smiling. "No, just very lucky."

The elf sighed with relief, and after a few seconds of counting his blessings he sat up. "You got them?"

"Just this idiot," Holly replied bitterly, gesturing towards Jarmil. "The other one ran away."

Finn nodded, looking more than a little dazed. "Probably long gone by now…"

Holly gritted her teeth. She hated letting someone like that get away, especially after he had exchanged shots with her—it was personal now. It would also look bad on her record, but even worse on her conscience. Any crimes that pixie committed later would be her fault, because she had failed to stop him when given the perfect opportunity. For a moment she felt lost, defeated, but then that other side of her, the impossibly determined core that had driven her through the toughest trials of her life, broke through with its temptations. It started out as a yearning, then a possibility, and finally an idea. That idea swiftly mutated into a plan of action, a rather simple one.

"D'arvit, I'm going after him!"

Finn looked at her as if she was crazy. "What? Now? We need to call backup!"

"You call them then, my communicator's fried," Holly said. She took her partner's neutrino and placed it in his hands, and pointed at Jarmil. "Keep an eye on this blockhead for me. I'll be right back."

Corporal Finn was going to protest further, but before he could do so Holly was already gone, sprinting away like a gazelle. All he could do was stare after her and then look at the unconscious pixie opposite him. "Well, this sure is a change of pace…"

Talbot had a very big head start, and in the convoluted district it was easy to shake pursuit. When Holly crossed the road she saw a long side street in the direction her target had fled, and judging by the calamity within it he had probably been through there. What had once been a small market was now a terrible mess, tables overturned and goods strewn everywhere; platitudinously, the infuriated pixie was not capable of making a discreet exit. Holly ran through the market, tearing off her heavy traffic suit so that only her standard issue uniform remained. She jumped over tables and skidded through slicks of spilled substances—whatever in heaven's name they were—and when she was near the end of the market one of the patrons, an old gnome with a beard larger than his torso, indicated towards an alleyway to her left. Holly gave the gnome a friendly salute and followed his directions.

The alleyway was congested with garbage containers and the standard refuse, but Holly ran through it as if it were an open racetrack, ignoring the danger and defying the odds. She got covered in filth as a result, but she did not care. All that mattered to her was her mission.

At the alley's end was a staircase that led down into an even lower level of the district. Buildings flanked it all the way down, their rooftops successively lower. Holly stopped and scanned the area, and luck would have it that her hazel eyes locked onto a certain pixie as he turned a corner roughly two-hundred feet away. _There he is!_ Holly felt her adrenaline return, her mind flood with purposeful thoughts, and her body ache to move forward. She did so immediately, but not down the steps—no, that would take too long. Instead, she jumped up onto a garbage container and then onto the closest rooftop. It was not the greatest idea, but it was far more direct.

One building at a time the elf descended into the lower level, all the while moving on a diagonal that would intercept the pixie's path. She ran as fast as she could, feeling the air rip past her and the steady impact of her boots on the hard surface of the rooftops. Gaps appeared where alleyways sliced between the structures, and like a fictional assassin she jumped over each one with ease, landing on the other side with a roll and springing to her feet to resume her swift movement. She didn't care that she was making a scene, though later she would frown upon seeing videos of her stunt on the web—good advertising for the LEP in a sense, but not the kind of publicity she wanted.

When she reached the lower level she ran along the edge of the roof parallel to the street. Looking down was a very satisfying feeling, because there below was the runaway pixie, huffing and puffing as he sprinted as fast as he could. She was right above him, but the height was too high to jump from, and there were too many civilians for her to try her luck and shoot at him. _If only I had a pair of wings right now,_ she thought, split between looking where she was going and tracking her target's movement. A moment later Talbot took a sharp turn down a side street, where a number of warehouses were located. With the rooftops lower along that road, Holly went in for the metaphorical kill. _Alright, here goes nothing._

The elf leapt from the safety of the rooftop and into the cramped street, drawing her neutrino in midair and aiming it at Talbot. The pixie looked up, and in spite of his surprise threw himself to the right, avoiding Holly's flying shots. When she hit the ground she was forced to roll, and when she came up she saw the pixie rushing towards an adjacent street. _I'm not letting you get away this time!_ she thought as she gave chase.

The chase was not really much of a chase, as it ended only one minute later. It led up to a midsized warehouse, which Talbot rushed into without hesitation, ramming himself into the heavy doors and stumbling inside. Holly was right on his heels, and with the warehouse door open she did not bother to slow down. With a kick and a flurry of motion, she burst into the warehouse with her weapon raised, and actually landed right on top of Talbot. Both of them fell in a heap, but she got the upper hand, putting him in a lock and pressing her neutrino against his stomach.

"Don't move, idiot!" she growled, her fury showing on her face and her eyes filled with steel. Something dropped ahead of her, the metallic _ping_ echoing throughout the large warehouse, and there was the distinct sound of several muttered curses. Holly looked up, and was surprised to see five pixies staring back at her. They were all standing dead still amidst an assortment of containers, and the smell made it clear what they contained. It would seem that Holly had burst in on another part of Haven's shellfish smuggling ring, and without any backup. She stared at the other pixies, and they stared at her, astonishment on their faces and ill-intent in their eyes. No one moved, and no one said a thing. It was by far the most awkward moment Holly had ever experienced. But being her usual self, Holly took the situation for what it was and acted proactively, doing the one thing she was trained to do in this sort of standoff.

"Lower Elements Police! Drop your weapons, you are all under arrest!"

The gathering of pixies exchanged glances, and that was when Talbot let out an angry yell. "For Frond's sake, do something you idiots!"

"Don't do anything!" Holly retorted, taking her pistol from Talbot's chest and aiming it at the nearest pixie. She looked into his eyes, and there she saw the truth. These were hardened criminals, and they had all experienced enough jail time to prefer anything over going back behind bars. With only one LEP officer threatening their freedom, their choice was obvious. Darkness of heart and mind overcame reason, and Holly saw it work its way into their expressions, twisting them like a swift poison. At that moment she knew in her heart that there was no way out of it—that what came next was unavoidable. She felt the tension in the air, felt her body go rigid in anticipation, and smelled the very stench of fear—a pervasive, indescribable smell. "D'arvit!" she rasped, switching her blaster to rapid fire and aiming down the sights.

In an instant everything went to hell. The nearest pixie reached for his holstered blaster, and Holly shot him with a burst of neutrino fire, sending him to the ground in a heap while the other four dove for cover and drew their guns. Four weapons of various kinds were immediately aimed at her with killing intent, and with an outburst of noise they opened fire. Holly threw herself to the side, away from Talbot and behind one of the larger containers. Laser bolts flew all around her, melting metal and glowing crimson, and as she pressed herself against the protection of the metal container she heard a series of loud bangs split the air. The edge of the container just beside her head exploded into fragments, and the wall behind her became riddled with holes. She ducked low and gritted her teeth as the metal fragments flew past her, and she could feel the sting of one of them slice her cheek. Apparently one of the pixies had a human submachine gun.

Holly crouched behind her cover with a furious expression on her face. She was afraid, as anyone would be, but her anger outmatched it by a longshot. These pixies were intent on killing her, and there was nothing she hated more than such callousness, such corruption of the heart. This was the sort of madness that she had joined the LEP to stop. And stop it she would. Evil was upon her, and it was up to her to stop it before it took her life. _I can't stay here,_ she thought as laser bolts and bullets tore the container apart piece by piece. To go out into the open was to rush headlong into a fusillade of death—not the best tactic—but it was obvious that it was the only option she had now. And so, with a determined expression and a burst of motion, Holly ran and jumped out into the open, flying sideways and shooting like a lunatic. Her shots peppered the positions that the pixies were holding, and struck one of them in the face. The remaining three ducked, giving Holly a chance to move.

The elven officer ran until she reached another large metal container, and this one offered a better position to fire from. Keeping her neutrino blazing, she tried to keep her opponents pinned down. But one of them, knowing what she was planning, made a desperate move to return fire, sticking his submachine gun—an old soviet ppsh-41—up over his hiding place and holding down the trigger. Even though he was blind firing, the weapon had a firing rate of over a thousand rounds per minute, and with seventy rounds in the magazine that meant that aiming was not very necessary in a pinch. Bullets flew all over the place, and Holly was forced to take cover.

"I could really use a concussor grenade right now!" she said to herself as bullets whizzed past her and ricocheted off the walls. Sparks flew as projectiles collided around her, and she could not help but dread the possibility of one of them striking her. Bullets were painful, obviously, and lead was even more poisonous to fairies as it was to humans. And yet with injury and death so close at hand, it was easy, oddly automatic, for her to think clearly, and with that clarity of thought she fought for her life.

The pixies were moving, flanking her on both sides, and though they tried to keep up suppressive fire their motion made it less accurate. Holly could not hear their footsteps in the chaos, but a ray of artificial sunlight from a window high above made their shadows stretch long enough for her to see. A shadow loomed on her left, and three more on her right—Talbot must have joined them. They were going to arrive at the same time, and that gave Holly an idea. With the two groups closing in, she looked up at the container she was hiding behind, noting its height. _Easy._

She heard the sound of the human weapon being loaded again, and the resulting lull in the shooting let her hear their footsteps. They were close, so very close. A second was all it took. Holly holstered her neutrino and leapt up, grabbing the lip of the container and pulling herself on top of it. At the very same moment, on both sides of the container, the pixies burst around with their weapons aimed, thinking that they had her trapped. All they saw was open air, and Talbot, with a terrible glare on his face, spoke furiously.

"Where is she? Where the hell is she?!"

The sound of a neutrino charging up filled their ears, and they all froze still in a moment of terror and realization. Three shots rang out, dropping three of the pixies in an instant. Only Talbot remained, and he turned around slowly to see Holly standing right there, a foot away. Her eyes were narrowed and her lips curled into a stern, unforgiving snarl, and when Talbot met her glare she spoke coldly.

"Are you done?"

Talbot grimaced, but he did not drop his weapon. Instead he tried to raise it, and for that he received a powerful strike across the face with the grip of Holly's blaster. He fell backwards, tripped over his fallen comrades, and landed with a cry of pain. He still had his weapon in his hand, but Holly's boot swiftly stomped down on it, eliciting another cry from him.

"What was that for?!" he rasped, livid and terrified simultaneously, his desires to escape and to be unharmed clashing with one another. He glared up at the female officer, and growled through barred teeth. "I have rights you know! I have rights!"

"Tell that to someone who gives a troll's ass," Holly growled, crouching down and grabbing the blaster from his weakened hand. She deactivated the weapon and tossed it aside, all the while keeping her eyes on Talbot's. "Now let's see…Unlawful possession of a firearm, smuggling, exploitation of an endangered species, resisting arrest, obstructing an officer of the law, endangerment of the public, attempted murder, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera." She paused, grinning a little. "You're in deep. Real deep."

"We will make you pay for this!" the pixie growled. "I have powerful friends! They will know!"

Holly was unfazed, and she merely shrugged. "I hope they do. Otherwise it's going to be a lonely term for you in prison."

Talbot was beyond furious, his face crimson and his eyes wide with hatred. He spat on her, cursing her and the LEP whilst glancing furtively at the discarded weapons nearby. By this point Holly had had enough, and without any hesitation she shot the pixie several times with her neutrino, silencing him for a good while.

"Always such charmers," Holly muttered as she checked each of the unconscious fairies' vitals. All of them were perfectly fine, just bruised and in for a serious headache when they woke up. With all of this taken care of, the elven officer glanced around the room—at the destruction, the bullet holes, and the nearly imperceptible haze of gun smoke. There was silence where there had once been gunshots, calm after chaos, and in the midst of spent shell casings and scorch marks she realized that she had survived something that most would not have. By margins, thin and rare, she had lived. Luck—and more so skill—had kept her alive. With that thought in her mind, she took a long, steadying breath and got back to work. Even though she had done the right thing in her mind, she had a suspicion that her superiors would think otherwise.

Thirty minutes later, her suspicion proved to be very accurate. Holly was standing outside giving her recount to her section commander, Captain Leoht Evergreen. Backup had taken about as long as expected, and when they reached the warehouse Holly had already restrained the pixies and lined them up in a neat little row. Nevertheless, despite the obvious success of her mission, the first thing the taciturn captain did was reprimand her.

"You abandoned traffic detail to chase an armed fugitive through densely populated streets, refused to wait for backup, and to top it all of you started a gunfight that had this whole district locked down." Captain Evergreen looked her in the eye as he said this, and when he was finished Holly nodded.

"Yes sir, though under the circumstances it was impossible to avoid a firefight."

"You should have been more cautious," the elf replied, frowning deeply as he spoke. "You took too many risks going in there alone. The LEP does not need more dead heroes, and the public surely doesn't want officers running around pulling stunts like this."

"I understand sir," Holly replied. She suppressed the urge to say something more, to try and defend her actions, knowing that it would only anger the captain even more. When you were a lowly corporal in a very stratified system, you only had so much of a voice. Thus, even though she wanted to give her superior a verbal thrashing, she held her tongue. Better to be professional than to give him a reason to doubt her discipline.

Captain Evergreen nodded after a moment of careful thought, glancing at his data pad to enter in more information for his report. The hustle and bustle of officers and crime scene investigators working around them made it a little difficult to hear the sotto voce comment he made next.

"All that aside, Corporal Short, you did a remarkable job. Unorthodox, but commendable."

Holly nodded, surprised. "Thank you sir."

"Now I must excuse myself," Evergreen said, serious and unforgiving once again. "I still need to see to all the noise complaints you caused. Report to police plaza as soon as possible for a more official debriefing."

Holly snapped a perfect salute. "Yes sir!" When Captain Evergreen was gone, she let herself relax a little, though it was impossible to feel good. Returning to police plaza for debriefing was certain to include a very vexatious lecture and perhaps tangible penalties. She could already imagine herself getting suspended without pay, or even worse, demoted or even discharged. It was a terrible thing to think about, as every fiber of her being was invested in her career as an LEP officer—there was nothing else she wanted to be. But regardless of what happened, even if she escaped serious consequences, she could look forward to traffic detail for at least another eight months; about as alluring a prospect as having to wait tables at a B'wa Kell bar.

 _All of this because of those gods damn sweartoads,_ Holly thought as she walked back towards the street, where a police cruiser was waiting to give her a lift. It was a startling coincidence that a sweartoad jumped into her path a second later, and instead of getting out of the way it stopped right there, as if determined to perturb her even more. Holly stared at the sweartoad, a flat expression on her face and a violent glimmer in her hazel eyes. The toad stared back at her with its massive, silly-looking gaze, as if they were caught in a staring contest. Then, without warning—but all too expected—it opened its mouth and dispensed, in an infuriatingly silly tone, the longest string of expletives she had ever heard in her life. It was no coincidence that later, when a local business owner reopened his store, there was a suspicious hole in his window and a cursing toad stuck in his workshop, cussing away as if someone had drop kicked it far enough to set a new world record.

 **Holly's Apartment, Haven**

 _What a day this has been,_ Holly thought as she lay on the cramped sofa in her cramped apartment, staring up at the ceiling with a tired gaze and a flat expression. Her gear and uniform were strewn about the room, tossed off and left where they had fallen, and an unappetizing pre-made meal sat untouched on the table, long since cooled off. It was dark, and the negligible space of the residence was oppressive, if not outright torturous, but for Holly it was irrelevant. All she wanted was to lay there and do nothing for a long while, to try and settle her mind and ease her body's aches and pains. Easier said than done.

The reception she had received at police plaza was about as expected, but no less unpleasant. The major in charge of her division, a humorless gnome named Ark Sool, had given her a memorable typhoon of scorn for her reckless actions, and though he did not see it fit to outright suspend her, he did make it evident that she had earned a spot on the list of officers he hated most. He had gone on and on about regulations and public image, and had virtually ignored the fact that she had singlehandedly exposed a smuggling ring that had links all over the Lower Elements. Instead of commending her, he gave her crap for everything, even the capture of the criminals, who he said had "inalienable rights" and "the power to sue." Overall, it became very clear to Holly that Major Sool hated any officer who went beyond protocol in exceptional situations, and that he would forever see her as a loose cannon. _Ark Sool, the king of red tape,_ she thought angrily as she stared at the featureless ceiling. _Gods help us if he ever becomes commander._

Apart from the dressing-down she received from the major, there were a few things that amalgamated to form somewhat of a silver lining. Things could have been far worse, and in the end nothing changed within her—her convictions, her beliefs, and her approach to police work would all remain the same, no matter what some ignorant superior said. It had actually been pretty nice discussing the incident with fellow officers, who were more inclined to be impressed, and then there was Foaly, one of the brighter technical officers rising through the LEP ranks. The eccentric centaur had been one of the first friends she had made in the LEP, and he was by far the best. His opinion on the matter had coincided with hers, as in many cases he too went beyond the invisible lines of his job's power, though always for good reason and with notable success. It would seem that they were both problem members of the LEP, but tremendously gifted. It was great to have someone who shared her precarious circumstance.

Now, with that all over for the night, Holly could look back on it and wonder. She thought mainly of the incident itself, preferring to analyze what had happened as opposed to the irritating aftermath. It was all there in her mind, clear as crystal, and as she went over it part by part she accepted that she was lucky to be alive. And yet, despite such a close encounter with death, the whole debacle with the sweartoads irritated her much more. She would have pondered this further, but her thoughts were obliterated in their infancy by a distracting beeping sound, one that she knew better than to ignore. In fact, as she sat up and looked for her communicator, she had her hopes up that it was someone in particular, the very someone who had inspired her to pursue the life she lived. And it was. The identification on the call was from Atlantis, and more specifically from the LEPmarine headquarters. The subscript read "Coral Short." Her mother. The elf answered it without any hesitation.

"Hello mom," she said with a growing smile on her face.

The voice that responded, despite the distortion of transmission, invoked so many memories. _"Hello Holly."_

There was a long pause, and for Holly it was unexpected. Over three weeks had passed since they had last spoken, and despite all that had happened Holly found herself locked in a state of awkward silence, unable to think of something to say. It dumbfounded her, but her mother spoke before the pause went on too long.

" _I called as soon as I could. I got word of your little encounter with those smugglers, in fact I heard all the details."_

Holly frowned, detecting the edge in her mother's voice. "That was fast."

" _I think you know what sort of resources I have at my fingertips. Accessing LEP reports is easy."_

"I see…"

" _What were you thinking?"_ her mother demanded firmly, concern and anger in her voice.

Holly sighed. Yet again she had to defend her actions, this time to her mother. "I was doing my job. I could not stand by and do nothing while criminals like that roam free. I had to do it. Besides, I think the People are a lot safer as a consequence of my actions today than a hundred days of traffic detail."

" _Would they be better off if you had gotten yourself killed?"_ Coral retorted, her fierce temper starting to surface in her words.

Holly, born with the same temper, spoke defiantly. "I know what I'm doing!"

" _Well I am not very convinced! If you were not so lucky you would be dead right now! Don't you dare throw your life away like that!"_

That last outburst was followed by silence, long and frigid. But as swift as a warm wind rising to melt a thin layer of snow, the tension subsided and an air of understanding took over. Coral sighed quietly, and spoke softly, the mother within her breaking through the hardened elf she had become.

" _I am sorry, Holly. I know that I cannot tell you how to live your life, not anymore. I just cannot bear the thought of you getting into such situations. I cannot bear losing you, not after we have lost so much already…"_ She took a deep breath, steadying herself. _"I understand your actions, because they're what I would have done as well—you're so much like I used to be when I was younger. It is foolish and hypocritical of me to criticize your efforts. Sorry…"_

Holly smiled a little, and spoke sincerely. "It's alright, I was being stupid too. I worry you a lot, too much, and I'm sorry about that, I really am."

" _And I am sorry as well, for not being there for you."_

Rarely did they see each other, so much so that it was as if they lived in their own little worlds, isolated by responsibilities and passions alike. Yet Holly did not think about this, and instead thought about the present—about the elf on the other end. "You are here for me now, mother, and that's what matters."

Again there was a pause, an intimate moment of silence in which so much was implied that need not be said. It was a moment of reminiscence, of affection, and of the comfort of love. It carried on as they spoke, melding flawlessly as does the wind with an open sky.

" _I am proud of you, Holly,"_ Coral said. _"You have done extraordinary things, for the People and the world. Your father would have loved to see you as you are now. He would have danced in the streets for joy of you living your dream."_

Those words meant so much to Holly; more than anything, at the moment. They filled her with warmth, with happiness, and in them she found that feeling of belonging, that linkage between those of the same blood, that banished even the slightest notion about being alone in the world. She was not alone, and it felt so wonderful. And yet, at the very same time, Coral's words brought sadness. It was a melancholy born out of the same family ties, in this case ones that had been broken by the saber of cruel fate. Her father had died long ago, his memory the only vestige of his existence, and to think of what could have been—and to envision it so wishfully—was a sorrowful act, one that made tears come to her eyes. If only he was alive. If only…

" _It's been fifteen years,"_ Coral said softly, reminding Holly of the time that had passed since that tragic day. It was an insignificant amount of time to a fairy, and yet it seemed like an eternity, given depth by the fact that each day, every morning since then, had started without a husband, without a father. For Holly, there was little to say that would express her feelings, but a tangent of thought made her speak her heart's deepest desire.

"Don't leave me too. Please, promise me that you will stay, no matter what."

Coral was clearly taken aback by the sudden request, as she took a few moments to respond. But when she did there was no doubt, no fear, and only strength and love in her words.

" _I promise."_

Holly smiled, even as her sadness continued to wet her eyes. "Thank you."

" _Can you make that same promise to me?"_

It was Holly's turn to wonder, but she did not wonder long—at that moment, it was so easy to be certain about everything. "I do, with all of my heart."

Coral's smile was evident in the words she spoke. _"Thank you."_

They talked a little longer, but the most important things had already been said, leaving the general, casual conversation about the happenings in their respective fields, and after such heartfelt words it was hard to speak about comparatively irrelevant matters. After ten minutes Coral sighed, a noise audible in the background.

" _I have to go now, Holly."_

Holly, who was once again reclining on her cramped couch, nodded slightly. "Duty calls, I know."

" _When this is over I will see to it with command that I get some time to visit you. I won't take no for an answer from them, so it's a guarantee. I will see you soon, Holly, I promise."_

"I look forward to it."

There was a moment of silence—of hesitation—and then Coral spoke for the last time.

" _Goodbye Holly."_

Holly smiled. "Goodbye."

The communication link went off a second later, leaving Holly disconnected from her mother—by hundreds of miles and imperceptible circumstances. But that was alright for her, because she knew that she was not alone, and that soon she would be able to catch up with her mother in person. What a wonderful day that would be! It made her smile even more, and it washed away all of the pain and the frustration that the day had given rise to.

With that smile on her face, and the glimmer of tears in her eyes, Holly lay back and thought; about her mother and father, about the past that had made her, and about the future that she wanted to live. Her memories, hopes, and her greatest dreams all flowed through like water in the river flow, glittering and clear. And in all of these thoughts was a clarity, crystalline and pure, that made her see through to the heart of it all, to what really mattered in the tempestuous experience of living. Her smile did not waver, nor did her bittersweet tears. Sometimes, it took moments like these to know that you were truly alive. And alive she was, so fully and completely.

 **LEP Marine Headquarters, Atlantis**

Coral Short stood in her spacious office, looking out the large window that let her see into Atlantis and the great deep beyond. It was a wondrous view, a masterpiece that would move any heart, but she saw none of it, not even the brilliant towers of the city or the bustling life that flowed everywhere in between. Her mind was on her daughter, her precious child, and there was nothing that could outshine that, not even all of the gemstones in the world. Even her reflection she ignored, seeing past herself even though she looked right into her own gaze.

She was tall for an elf, willowy as some would put it, and that stature went well with her long auburn hair and fine features, combining to give her an appearance that many would envy. And though beautiful she was, her bright blue eyes contained a hardness, a strength of mind that those with unyielding determination had, and beyond that was her unbreakable spirit; the same spirit that Holly was said to have. This was her four-hundredth year, meaning that she was still young for an elf, but within that time there had been so many experiences, wonders, and trials—so much of the good and bad that existence could contain. For humans life went quick, and it seemed to her that the more years you had, the less you noticed them go by. Time was so easy to take for granted, even though it was the most valuable thing in the world. Sometimes it was good to stand still and feel the passing seconds, knowing that each one was precious, irreplaceable, and permanent.

Behind her, on her large desk, was the flashing light of her communicator. It indicated that she had work to do, meaning that there was a mission that had just sprung up. _Just a few more seconds won't hurt,_ she thought, ignoring the situation and letting her mind wander over the years passed. She remembered how life had once been, when Holly had been younger and her husband was still alive—when they had been more of a family. It was a stark contrast to the present, where she and Holly were always torn away from one another by their respective paths, bound by duty and passion. The short conversation she had just had was the first in weeks, and it felt like the first in years. How time flew, and how distant people could become; how swiftly youth and relationships each faded into oblivion, like a lonesome sapling in a snowstorm. But Holly was not distant, nor had time worn the links between them. Theirs was a special bond, and theirs it would remain, even though they were worlds apart.

 _She certainly has my temper,_ Coral thought as she stared into the distance, the lights of the city glittering in her blue eyes. Their initial exchange had made it obvious that they shared that fiery attitude, and it was an attitude that they did not spare each other from. They had argued a lot over the years, a testament to their steadfastness in their own opinions, and many times did they fail to reach a mutual consensus on an issue. But that did not bespeak a rift between them, no matter how animated it got. In all of their squabbles, all of their arguments, there was a subtle affection, a love that was the root of everything; truly, it was the ones who you loved that you clashed with the most. Holly loved her mother more than the very dreams her reckless mind entertained, and admired her to no end. It was her mother, not her imagination, which had watered the seeds of her dreams and had given her the desire to pursue a life in the LEP. And it was her mother who had seen her through the hardest years of her life, when her father had passed away so terribly soon.

From a mother's perspective, it was only natural that Coral acted as she did. She cherished her daughter more than anything in the world, and as such she was determined for her to not get herself killed doing reckless things—her life was too precious to be thrown away like that. And yet Coral knew so very well from her own experience that there was only so much one could do. Love meant protection, but it also meant freedom, and she could not deny her daughter the passion she had in life. Despite all of its dangers, all of its uncertainties, and all of its innate costs, the path that Holly walked was noble, admirable, and untouchable. Coral loved and hated it, as any mother would love and hate the prospect of their offspring going forth into the tempestuous seas of life, alone and surrounded by a world full of danger, perfidy, and shadow. Her greatest fear was to lose her to that world, and yet her greatest shame would be to deny her that very same world. It was so difficult, so terrifying, plaguing her thoughts and haunting her dreams, but in time she knew she would learn to accept it and let it fade away. The truth was that her irreplaceable, precious daughter was all grown up, and like all mothers were fated to do, she had to let go. She had to believe in Holly—in her strength of mind, body, and soul—and accept that she was the master of her own fate, as free as an eagle gliding upon the warm updrafts of a summer's day. Looking out into the endless expanse of the ocean, beyond the lights and safety of Atlantis' sprawl, Coral Short smiled sadly, as if watching the past drift away forever on the currents of time. _You have all my faith, Holly…_

Her communicator beeped loudly and repeatedly, filling the silent room with its incessant noise and pulling her away from her tender thoughts, dragging her back into the world of the present and bringing with it the awareness of all that had to be done. To stand still and reminisce was something that she, Doctor Coral Short, rarely found time to do, and now was not an exception. She was running behind, though that was an acceptable cost for what she gained as a consequence. Still smiling from her thoughts, and feeling the mighty maternal emotions rage against her usual stoicism, the elf turned away from the window—away from the past and all of its ruminations—and faced the vexatious communicator. She glared at it, hating the fact that it only had one noise setting, and swiftly picked it up. "This is Doctor Short," she said professionally.

" _Coral, we have a potentially serious situation on our hands."_ The voice on the other end was unmistakably that of her superior, Chief Torin Carnunnos of LEPmarine. He spoke smoothly, but with a sense of urgency, and in his tenor was a hint of apprehension uncommon of him to show. Something had him on edge, and Coral immediately snapped into a serious demeanor.

"What is the threat's classification?"

" _Currently at level two, but it can potentially rise to a level five,"_ the Chief replied. _"We have a team on standby, but they are operating at a fraction of their usual number."_

"Thanks for informing me. I want to be up there as soon as I can to assist. Can I get clearance ASAP?"

 _"Already have it. I knew you would want to, and in fact I want you up there heading it while I organize a relief team. I do not want to risk anything with this one."_

Coral was already grabbing her personal effects and checking her data pad. "Briefing?"

" _No time, too urgent. You should be up there within the hour."_

Coral nodded and nearly kicked open her office door. "Running start huh?"

" _The personification of it,"_ the Chief said humorlessly. _"Your crew has been informed and your ship has been prepped for launch. I will fill you in on the details as you make your way there."_

Doctor Coral Short burst out of her office and set a swift pace through the pearlescent corridors of the LEPmarine HQ, her uniform immaculate and her rank insignia—that of a captain—glinting in the light. No one got in her way, due to both her position and her reputation for having a fierce temper. She gave curt nods to those who saluted her, but otherwise paid attention only to the hallway ahead of her and the voice speaking in her ear. Chief Carnunnos' explanation of the sudden situation was enough to make her double her pace.

She had been in the LEPmarine for many decades, working to help protect the environment from the rising threat of human influence. The LEPmarine was a sizable branch of the force, tasked with that very same thing. It patrolled the Atlantic for the most part, cleaning up after the humans and assisting ecosystems, but it also had bases globally to meet the requirements of every major body of water. Having long been an officer with this agency, Coral had dedicated her life to the mitigation of the terrible effects of humanity's pollution. She conducted countless hours of research, wrote volumes of studies and reports, and led operations to save the lives of the many species at risk of destruction. She fearlessly faced all of the threats the mud men ignorantly concocted, from radioactive waste and chemical spills to the rampant depletion of wildlife populations. It was difficult work, as every year the humans got worse, but she loved it—it was her passion. To save the creatures of the world was the greatest calling for her, and though she knew that it was impossible to save them all, she still tackled it each day with the intention of doing exactly that.

The LEPmarine had been heavily strained by the humans ever since the industrial revolution, but that was nothing compared to the changes after humanity's horrific Second World War, with the rise of the atom—the power to destroy the world. The onset of the Cold War brought with it the regular testing of nuclear weaponry, and much of it was done in the ocean, where the radiation could spread all over the globe and wreak havoc on the fragile marine life. Coral was disgusted by it, but even more so was she terrified. For decades the two major powers of the human race had been at a nuclear standoff, and so many proxy wars raged in between, claiming the lives of millions. All it would take was a single error, or a single act of monumental insanity, to set off the total destruction of the world. Not even the People, with all of their technology, could reclaim a surface composed of nothing but irradiated slag. It would mean the end of everything she was trying to protect. At this year of 1986, she had seen enough close calls to grow extremely weary of it all; it was as if the mud men were playing Russian Roulette with the entire world, except winning ultimately meant nothing to either side.

The crisis that now had her attention was yet another product of humanity's madness. With their use of nuclear power, particularly in warships, the humans generated appalling amounts of nuclear waste. For some reason they thought it was a good idea to dump it in the sea as well. One of such locations was the Barents Sea, used by the Soviet Union as their primary dumping ground for nuclear waste and spent assemblies. The LEPmarine's RBMD (Radioactive and Biohazardous Materials Disposal taskforce) had a constant presence there, and for the most part they had contained the worst of it. Today was a particularly pressing case, one that Doctor Short was tasked with heading. Any mistakes could lead to disaster that could affect the entire planet; the stakes were very high, to say the least. Coral was determined to do her best, which meant perfection and nothing less. Her spotless reputation supported such aims.

Her trip to the hangar bay took only two minutes. After exiting a gravity lift and passing through the security checkpoint, she was standing before the enormous expanse of the main hangar. It was filled with ships, ranging from shuttles and interceptors to the enormous private transports of political figures. The LEPmarine section of the hangar was down below, with its own subsection filled to the brim with submarines. These were impressive as well, marvels of engineering, and they were the People's primary weapon against humanity's pollution of the seas. Coral made her way to the elevator to take her to that level, and after swiping her keycard she heard a voice behind her.

"Hello Captain!"

This was one of her crew members, her pilot to be more precise. He was an elf named Riagán Trus, one of the younger graduates of the academy and a rising star in his field. When he appeared before Coral he was his usual self, dressed in his pilot suit and sporting an excited expression that was almost infectious. Enthusiasm was one of his key strengths, mixed with a little impulsiveness and humor, but his greatest was his determination. Like Coral, it was his personal goal to protect the world they lived in, and such passion—besides his skill—was the main reason Coral had chosen him as her pilot. She would not have anyone in her team but those who were passionate about their mission; if there is no passion in what one does, they are doing the wrong thing. Riagán was certainly doing it right.

With a youthful smile and a salute, the young elf joined her in the elevator. He had remarkably big green eyes, freckles on his childlike face, and short blond hair to top it all off. He looked almost half his age of eighty-nine.

"I guess the Chief has already filled you in?" he asked casually as they waited for the elevator to reach the lowest level.

"In an abbreviated sense, yes," Coral replied.

"We were just out yesterday too," the young Corporal said with a grin. "Those mud men don't give us a break, ever."

Coral stared blankly at the wall. "They never will."

"Well that's alright," Riagán said, his voice exuding a youthful confidence. "I will keep on their heels, right to the very end. They won't go unchecked, not on my watch!" He rubbed his hands together, grinning widely. "And I don't mind the extra time in the cockpit. Not. One. Bit."

Coral smiled a little, her stoicism temporarily shattered by her colleague's character. His was a rare persona, and a very enjoyable one once you got used to it. It was not surprising that he loved to pilot the submarines—in fact, he had exceeded every expectation and shattered the records to boot. Even if there wasn't a pressing danger, he would try to get out there, for any reason, just to take a ship for a spin. Coral could tell that a month full of arduous work had not dulled that desire, but rather amplified it tenfold. She knew that she could count on him to do his very best.

When they reached the LEPmarine section, they hightailed it over to the priority launch tubes, running as fast as they could whilst the sound of alarms blared overhead. Coral, in the best shape of her life, did not even get winded by sprinting a hundred meters to the launch area, while Riagán, despite all of his hot air, breathed heavily. Priority launch tube number thirty-seven was waiting for them when they entered through an airtight doorway, and Coral could not help but smile when she saw her ship.

There she was, firmly secured by docking clamps, basking in the overhead lighting like a masterpiece in a viewing gallery, the _Sirona_. Originally one of LEPmarine's standard DSRV-10s—deep sea reconnaissance vehicle, version 10—the _Sirona_ was now the pinnacle of present technology, featuring more modifications and upgrades than any other vessel in the fleet. Its design enabled it to do virtually every task available, such as underwater transport, marine research, water decontamination, waste capture, and stealth reconnaissance. The only thing it could not do was fight in a war, which was not only regulation for the non-militarized branch of the LEP, but also a moral preference for Coral herself. She wanted her legacy to be one of progress and healing, not destruction. Her smile did not waver as she looked the vessel over from where she stood, eyeing its lines and contours as one would a fine specimen. She ran her hand along its side, still smiling, and spoke ever so softly.

"We have more work for you, _Sirona_. I know you will not let us down." Having used the same vessel for nearly ten years, Coral had become attached to it on a significant level. Just as Riagán was her pilot, so was the _Sirona_ an indispensable member of her team. She was reliable, sturdy, and full of surprises—a perfect ship for a captain like her. As she felt the cold touch of the ship's alloy hull, Coral could remember, with startling clarity, all of the times the old girl had seen her through dangerous situations; all the times she had kept her alive. It was a good feeling.

"About time you two got down here," a new but familiar voice called out.

Coral looked to her right, seeing that the vessel's side hatch was open. A head was poking out, revealing a pair of dark brown eyes cast in a look of overt vexation; black hair and pale skin made for a stark contrast, and her voice, filled with urgency and seriousness, effortlessly grabbed attention. Coral smiled and nodded at the protruding face. "Vera, it's good to see you beat us here, as always."

"Since when was it ever a competition?" the pixie stated flatly.

"Good point," Coral replied, patting Vera on the shoulder as she entered the vessel.

Corporal Vera Leofflaed was another crew member of the _Sirona_ —and another interesting individual, to say the least. Only slightly older than Riagán, she was also one of the newer members of LEPmarine, and a very commendable one. Having achieved top grades in every field of study and excelling in engineering, Vera was a natural when it came to the maintenance and handling of an advanced vessel like the _Sirona_. She loved numbers and demanded exactitude from both herself and others, and never did a piece of machinery baffle her; no matter the problem, she knew the cause and the solution. Being a pixie, she was naturally inclined to ruthless ambition—like the head of Koboi industries—and she was indeed ambitious, determined to fly beyond her goals. Nevertheless, she was kindly on the inside, and openly averse to the stereotype that pixie's were victim to. And ultimately, she was a dedicated friend and colleague, reliable in every way and surprising in many others. Though she intended to move on to even greater things in her career, for now she served as an exemplary copilot, technician, and navigations officer. Together with Coral, Riagán, and the _Sirona_ , they formed a solid team.

"Everything is waiting on standby," the pixie said stoically as the three of them walked through the central corridor in the ship. "The Chief has given us the green light, and Brigadier-General Winters has offered us a few additional ships as escort."

Coral nodded, though she frowned at the mention of Evandrus Winters, the head of the military garrison in Atlantis. He was a rough elf, and generally saw every issue as a nail that needed whacking. "Tell Winters that his offer is appreciated, but we do not need an escort. Those navy submarines are heavier than ours and make a lot more noise. I want this done swiftly and silently."

"Yes Ma'am," Vera replied, getting to work immediately on her communicator.

The submarine was small by human standards, and even for the three fairies it was pretty cramped in the short corridor. The control room was a little more spacious, and when they entered it they were greeted by the glow of the computer consoles and the hum of systems warming up. There were three seats in the room, two situated side by side at the front and one a few meters behind them. The latter was on a raised platform and surrounded by control panels and screens, and that was where Coral Short sat down to begin her work. In front of her, Riagán and Vera took up their spots in the pilot and copilot seats, strapping in silently and then donning their flight helmets—very much like the helmets for LEP fighter pilots, but calibrated for the underwater environment. The holographic displays on their helmets lit up, as did all of the screens, adding a distinct greenish glow that all the data was shown in.

"Systems are all warm and toasty," Corporal Trus said animatedly, flicking switches and grinning like a dwarf in a goldmine.

Corporal Leofflaed was reading the screens before her, juggling two-dozen different things at once with marked ease. "Reactor running at optimal levels, no abnormalities in the propulsion drive. All ports are sealed, life support at one-hundred percent, hazard protection field online…Everything checks out, Captain. HIGHCOM has transmitted our destination and is giving the green light to engage."

Coral Short was sitting patiently in the command chair, reading the data on her primary screen and studying the course they were to set. In her peripheral vision she could see the familiar face of her husband, an old photo of the two of them taken many years ago. It was taped to the side of the main control panel alongside an image of Holly, always visible thanks to the glow of the screens, and when she caught sight of it in her peripherals she stopped for a moment and looked at it, feeling many emotions at once and remembering, so very clearly, the time when that picture had been taken. It was so long ago, and yet it stung anew, reminding her that her love was gone forever and that she was doomed to live without him, for however long that was fated to be. Nevertheless, despite tears beginning to form in her eyes, she smiled.

"Watch over us, my love."

Her husband, Bartholomaios Short, smiled back at her from the photo, frozen in that look of happiness; a happiness that they had shared, and one that Coral longed to feel again. _One day,_ she thought soberly, turning back to her screens and focusing on her work. The photo remained in the corner of her vision, a silent comfort and a source of bittersweet memory. _One day…_

There was a sudden jolt of motion as the submarine was lowered from its docking clamps, into the pool of water that lay beneath it. Everything took on an emerald hue through the main window, and bubbles danced before it, white amidst that sea of subtle green. A short tunnel stretched before them, lit up by flashing yellow lights, and a red signal loomed above its entrance—a red signal that suddenly turned green as well. Coral pressed a few buttons, sat back in her seat, and spoke determinedly.

"All ahead full."

Corporal Trus grinned anew and, with expert proficiency, sent the sleek submarine into motion, right through the short tunnel and out into the startling vastness of the ocean. It was a smooth launch, perfect in every way, and when they met the deep currents of the Atlantic there was little difference. Riagán was one of the best, and Coral was reminded of this every time.

"Our route is charted out, Corporal," she said stoically. "I want to be at the AO in fifty."

The young elf laughed a little, and then spoke confidently. "I'll do it in forty."

Coral grinned, whilst Vera, due to her desire for numerical exactitude, shook her head in silent lamentation. Then the corporal put the propulsion system to full power, sending the vessel blasting forwards into the blackness of the ocean and leaving the vibrant lights of Atlantis in its wake, moving towards whatever fate had in store for them. Soon they were gone, leaving not even a transient sign of their presence. If only they knew what was going to happen, but fate was a perfidious force, treacherous and full of wretched intentions. For now it was a common, if not routine, mission they were undertaking. How much more it would turn out to be.


	2. Shattering

**East of Jan Mayen Island**

The _Sirona_ sliced through the frigid water, moving silent and swift amidst the seemingly impenetrable darkness of the ocean's depths; a small, fragile creature in comparison to the immortal vastness of the sea. Her running lights were all off, and the window into the command room was polarized so that nothing was visible from the outside, leaving the ship completely dark and, at a distant glance, looking like a large fish. It was with that deceptive look that she sped through the crushing depths and then up into the shallower parts of the ocean. Creatures of all manners lurked in the darkness with them, more frequent as the depth decreased. Whales and squids regarded them curiously further down, whilst schools of smaller fish and other organisms gave them wide berths. At one point a group of white-sided dolphins joined them, though their playful attempt to keep up only lasted as long as it took for the fast vessel to outrun them. And not a minute later they passed a massive pod of bowhead whales, the largest they had seen in years. They swam slowly and yet gracefully through the depths, their sounds audible to the sonar on the LEPmarine vessel. Coral watched this with particular longing as she monitored the _Sirona's_ progress. This was what she fought for, every day of every year, and seeing that wondrous life served to reaffirm, for the umpteenth time, her fierce dedication to the animals of the sea. It made her smile and yet, so inevitably, fall into a serious, determined state of mind. There was work to be done; work that would determine the fate of many of those beautiful creatures.

The elven captain regarded her virtual sea charts and noted their position, all the while monitoring the various readouts on the other screens. They were currently passing through the Norwegian Sea, moving perpendicular to the island of Svalbard. The Barents Sea, and their target, was fast approaching. This was further emphasized by the enigmatic Vera Leofflaed, who was constantly keeping tabs on their navigation.

"Closing in on the operation area. ETA five minutes."

"I see that the northern taskforce is on location," Coral stated, seeing the FOF tags of a number of vessels reading on her scanners. "Vera, patch me through to them."

"Roger that."

Coral heard static through her headset for a few seconds, but then it cleared up to give her the continuous background noise of another submarine's control room. A voice, sounding more than a little relieved, spoke after a moment of comparative silence.

" _Ah, Captain Short, aren't you a sight for sore eyes."_

"Captain Endgrove," Coral replied friendlily, smiling despite herself. "It's been a while. Two years I think."

" _Aye, since that last research operation in the Pacific. We'll have to catch up later when this mess is cleaned up."_

"Indeed. What's your status?"

" _Working at a third of our strength,"_ the other growled. _"A nasty bit of rotten luck disabled six of my ships. The remaining three are currently shadowing the target .We're expecting it to begin dumping operations shortly. We'll neutralize and contain the contaminants as best we can, but with just three craft it will prove difficult. And I've heard that it may take a while for Atlantis to organize a larger relief force. More bad luck."_ He paused, the sound of his crew speaking to him faint in the background. _"Good thing HIGHCOM saw it fit to send you as the vanguard,"_ he continued. _"You're the best operative in the fleet, so I've been told."_

Coral grinned. "Don't believe every tale you hear, old friend."

The elf on the other end chuckled a little. _"Though a tale it may be, there is compelling evidence to support its claim. Regardless, there's always a kernel of truth in tall tales, and I think everyone in the fleet has come to expect such rumors about you. Doctor Short, a venerable ace! Best get used to it, Coral, unless you're determined to slug it out of everyone in LEPmarine."_

"Don't tempt me," Coral growled jokingly.

" _Ha! I wouldn't dare, I like my teeth where they are thank you."_ With a pause his enthusiasm deflated in light of circumstance, much like the sudden disappearance of the sun amidst a cloudy sky. _"Anyway, I'm glad you are with us."_

"I'm happy to oblige, Arion. We will be on site in three minutes."

Turning off the secure channel, she returned her attention to the charts and readouts, though the uncharacteristic grin still stretched across her usually serious face. It was not unexpected, given her past. Captain Arion Endgrove had been in the same graduating class as her back in the Haven Colligate School of the Oceanic Sciences, some three-hundred years ago. They had been rivals in a sense, competing in everything from exams to practicums, and though Coral was the eventual victor there was no friction between them. In fact, their academic skirmishes had fostered a strong bond between them, one that persisted after they finished their studies. Though they had both went their separate ways at first, fate had brought them together again in the LEPmarine, where they had worked as partners in a research team for several decades. Those years of being friends and colleagues made them good comrades—though not romantically—and over the last hundred years they had met occasionally to share their research and catch up. It was one of those friendships that stood the test of time. Years could pass without them meeting, but when they eventually met it was just like the old days, unruffled by time and unaffected by the changes in their lives. It was good to operate alongside him once again. Like her crew, she trusted him completely, even with her very life.

In front of her, Vera was working diligently at her station, and spoke now that Coral would not be interrupted. "We have just entered the AO. Sensors are picking up a surface vessel, bearing directly east of our position. Twenty-thousand tons, moving northward at eighteen knots."

Coral's eyes narrowed as she noted its position. "That's her alright."

The human vessel they were tracking was one of the regulars they had encounters with. The _Lepse_ was a nuclear service ship for the Soviet Union, and had been for several decades already. It was mainly used as a support vessel for Russia's vast nuclear icebreaker fleet, refueling their reactors and relieving them of waste, irradiated parts, and spent fuel assemblies. More recently it had been retrofitted to act as a storage ship for such hazardous materials, which included the regular dumping of such waste into the Kara and Barents Seas—a process whose effects the humans would not understand until years later. Coral and the LEPmarine knew very well the long-term influences that this entailed, and for years they had been combating what the _Lepse_ and other vessels had been so ignorantly doing. Now she and her crew were there to do so again, and it infuriated her that such was necessary. The humans were insane, or at least incredibly stupid. Regardless, their actions were taking a heavy toll, and the People were doing them a big favor by mitigating the damage. Ultimately the humans, not the fairies, would be the ones hurt by its eventual danger; not only was Coral protecting the creatures of the sea, but also prolonging the lives of the humans who so heartlessly tore the world apart. And she didn't even get a thank you letter for it, nor would she ever. Her actions and sacrifices, and those of all of her colleagues, would go unnoticed by humanity, and unappreciated. That's just how it was.

Keeping her anger in check, Coral set her mind on the task at hand, knowing that mere minutes were what separated her from the inevitable disaster the human ship would dump from above. From where she sat she could see the surface of the water quickly approaching, and the daylight beyond made the depths clearer so that she could see the distinct forms of Endgrove's ships: the _Naiad_ , _Llŷr_ , and _Thalassa_. Above those three submarines, dicing through the frigid waters and breaking the waves with its steel bow, was the _Lepse_. As Riagán maneuvered the _Sirona_ alongside the others, Vera turned to Coral with a thoughtful expression.

"I have been monitoring the _Lepse's_ communications with the mainland. It appears that they will be dumping their cargo a few miles short of the original location, due to heavy seas. My acoustic scans indicate that they will begin shortly."

"Thank you, Vera," Coral said, though her tone was rough. Naturally the humans would pull something like this, and it pissed her off. But there was no helping it either. "Signal that to Endgrove."

"Already have."

Coral nodded. "Have the taskforce form up and begin hazard containment. Standard dispersion, make sure nothing gets through unchecked."

The work that followed was so automatic and perfectly executed that it was clear how many times they had done it before. With the _Lepse_ charging through the seas above, the four DSRVs spread out beneath it and maintained a constant position in relation to the human ship. With their stealth designs they were invisible to human sonar technologies, and the waters were dark enough so that anyone looking over the side of the vessel would not notice their presence. Each of the vessels had deployable limbs for grabbing tangible waste, as did they have the facilities to neutralize the worst of the harmful isotopes. Even more impressive was their passive anti-radiation technology, dubbed the "radiation capture field." Each DSRV had an emitter powered by their reactor that would exude a moderate field that, though imperceptible to the eye, would interact with harmful radiation on an atomic level, and by a complex process obliterate it completely. With a field on each side of the human vessel, there was a wide area, a metaphorical net, which would capture the intangible radioactive waste and whatever else could not be caught by other means. It was wondrous technology, courtesy of a certain centaur's afternoon musings, and with it at their disposal they could do work that had used to take many times their number. In the _Sirona_ , Coral and Vera ran the systems while Riagán kept them on course.

All of this was done in the nick of time, as moments later the first casks made their plunge into the cold waters of the Barents Sea. Spent fuel, irradiated parts, and assemblies came down together, one after the other, in a more or less steady and organized fashion. The crew onboard the _Lepse_ was making it as quick as possible, clearly with the worsening weather in mind. Coral and the others tackled this shameless pollution with a calm professionalism that bespoke their years of experience. With all of the dumped material landing within the range of their capture fields, much of the hazards were reduced on the spot. Others, like the casks and the fuel assemblies, were grabbed by the powerful arms of the submarines and subsequently treated with a powerful dose of fairy ingenuity. These objects, once contained, were left to fall to the bottom of the sea where the humans would expect to find them. To outright eliminate any trace of the materials would have been too risky. The Soviet administration would certainly react to the news that their dumped waste was magically disappearing, and that was heat that the LEPmarine did not want.

For roughly twenty minutes the small taskforce, under Coral's command, dealt with the nuclear waste. The _Lepse_ loomed above them the whole time, an enormous shadow on an otherwise bright surface—like a black cloud in the firmament, so where ships from beneath the surface. The work was steady and demanding, and the results were excellent. At their current rate, they could manage it, and this made Coral smile a little. She remembered the pod of whales they had encountered not too long ago, and thought to herself that they were safe as a consequence of her actions. Indeed, she was protecting them. This happy tangent of thought was soon swept away though, because she knew that the _Lepse_ would be dumping for hours, and that meant hours of the tiring procedures and, naturally, hours of dangerous proximity to harmful radionuclides.

"Containment is optimal, Captain," Vera stated, as if reading her thoughts. "No radiation leaks detected in the hull. The others are just as well."

Long-term exposure to radiation would wreak havoc on any machinery, even if it was designed to function in such an environment. The _Sirona_ was newly upgraded with the latest technology to make its hull resilient to radiation, so that she could operate for forty-eight hours straight without beginning to feel the effects. The other ships, however, were not upgraded, meaning that they were still operating under the standard four-hour window. _Hopefully the Lepse will not take that much time,_ Coral thought as she monitored the operation. Indeed, time was everything in these sorts of crises. "Vera, any developments with the _Lepse_ and her communications?"

"Standard exchanges for the moment, though I think that the worsening weather is getting on their nerves. They may pull back early."

"That would be nice," Riagán muttered. He was staring blankly ahead, bored out of his mind by the task of keeping the ship moving in pace with the slow human vessel.

Another half-hour passed, and above the weather continued to deteriorate—the wind intensified, the swells grew, and the sky darkened, altogether a shift in the mood of nature, a swing of its roiling temper. Nothing out of the ordinary transpired the entire time, and then all of that went completely the opposite, as suddenly and as mercilessly as the giving-out of a mountainside. They saw it coming too, at least Vera did; her calculating eyes widened as she watched her screens, but before she could say anything the object of her surprise loomed on the surface above, careening towards their location with such rapidity that it was distant one moment and overhead the next. Its shadow was visible even from underwater, and its immense power was felt and even heard—a constant rumble, and then a crash. Coral Short realized what it was in an instant, and dreaded the implications. It was a rogue wave, roughly fifty feet high, and it had just slammed into the bulky side of the _Lepse_. This was immediately followed by an appalling outburst of nature, in which the winds lashed out and the very sky let loose a torrent of frigid sleet, bombarding the ailing _Lepse_ with a fusillade of elemental fury. From below the fairies could not see exactly what was happening, at least until they saw the hull of the _Lepse_ submerge on its starboard side almost up to its lower deck, so much so that they could read the letters of its name painted in white against the black along its hull.

"By the gods, she's nearly overturned!" Riagán exclaimed, distracted by the sudden disaster.

"D'arvit!" Coral cursed, glaring at the debacle above and then seeing, a little too late, the shower of massive objects sliding from its deck. "Evasive maneuvers!"

All of the heavy metal containers on the _Lepse's_ deck had been swiftly knocked overboard, all at once and in numbers too great to deal with. They sank rapidly, showering down upon the fairy vessels whilst exuding their wretched cargo. Riagán was back on the controls in an instant, and his actions narrowly saved the _Sirona_ from a direct hit. The ship to their port side, Endgrove's vessel the _Naiad_ , was not so lucky, as it was right below the majority of the fallen containers. It evaded a dozen, but got struck all the same by fifteen more, and despite its sturdy design it took a beating, getting pushed downwards on an angle right into a rocky shelf a dozen fathoms beneath it. Its nose struck rock, its metal ground and warped, and a cloud of bubbles burst from its seams. Coral felt her heartbeat double in an instant upon seeing this, and she cried out in fear and dismay. But she swiftly got control of herself, and yelled into her communicator.

"Arion, are you and your crew alright?!"

She got static for a moment, followed by a flurry of imaginative curses amidst the blaring of alert sirens. Then she heard him speak.

" _Blasted weather! I knew it would throw a wrench in all of this!"_

"What's your status?"

The elf coughed and muttered another curse, and in the background the sound of rushing water could be heard. _"Veritably screwed, we've lost propulsion and our hull is breached. We're trying to contain it but I've got one wounded and another unconscious. The radiation is getting into our systems and it's wreaking—"_

The communication link went dead, a result of the radiation messing with the _Naiad's_ systems. Coral growled furiously and analyzed the damaged submarine with her scanners, determined to find a way to help her friend.

"The _Llŷr_ is moving to assist them," Vera said over the tumult. "That should be enough."

"Perhaps not," Coral rasped as she eyed the scans. Endgrove's ship was in a serious situation, with mere minutes until it was uninhabitable. A single LEPmarine ship could save it or, if not, evacuate its crew, but in the chaos that was reigning there was so much that could go wrong. Coral wanted to rush to her friend's aid more than anything, but then she saw the looming hulk of the _Lepse_ still above, ailing in the tempestuous seas and threatening to roll over entirely. At that moment Coral found herself caught between the passions she held—her duty to the world, and her duty to her comrades. Rushing to help her friend would leave only one ship to deal with the environment catastrophe, and yet leaving him behind may result in his death. The dilemma filled her with a momentary uncertainty, a shudder of weakness through her resolve, but in the span of three seconds it was gone. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and then opened them again to regard the _Lepse_. Everyone in the LEPmarine knew that their lives were at stake and were an acceptable sacrifice if it meant protecting the planet. No one believed that more than her friend, Endgrove. He would be furious if she abandoned the mission now, even if by doing so she saved him. No, she would have to trust that one ship was enough to save him. Trust, and pray.

"Riagán, get us closer to the _Lepse_ , within arm range. Vera, put as much auxiliary power into the capture field as possible and signal to the _Thalassa_ to follow our lead."

"What do you have in mind, Captain?" the pixie asked calmly.

Coral glared determinedly at the ailing ship above. "We're going to make sure she doesn't capsize completely. If she does, we'll have an unparalleled mess on our hands." Indeed, it was her intention to help the humans, not only to mitigate the environmental impact, but also to save their lives. She hated humanity for what it did, but she could not wish death upon anyone, and most certainly not stand by and let it happen when she could prevent it. After all, humanity was not her enemy—only their ignorance.

"The _Thalassa_ is in position," Vera stated, ridiculously calm despite the situation.

Coral nodded, her face set in a look of fierce determination. "Alright, follow my lead!"

To right a floundering vessel was no easy task, and there was only so much that could be done without risking detection. What Coral had in mind was simple and risky, though altogether possible. Using the powerful retractable arms of each submarine, they put force against the submerged side of the ship, countering the opposing force of the waves slamming against it on the other side. They would turn it, ever so carefully, until it was facing the wind, and provide just the right amount of encouragement for the ponderous vessel to shake off the water on its decks and return to a semi-normal state. It took ten minutes to accomplish this, and every thirty seconds Coral had been almost certain that the _Lepse_ would simply roll despite their efforts. The sea was merciless against her, as was the wind, and together they formed a mighty foe. It was as if the world itself, the very fabric of the environment, was fighting against the scourge of human influence; like an enormous beast it was attempting to shake the vexatious little vessel from its back, to destroy it completely without any mercy and to discourage others like it. It was thanks to Coral and the others that nature's wrath bore no fruit, for the time being at least.

"She's upright," Vera stated, typing away at her station. "She's only dumped a fraction of what she has onboard. I will monitor their communications to see what they will do with the rest."

Coral nodded, ignoring the sweat dripping down her brow.

For the humans onboard the _Lepse_ , it was a moment of astounding fortune and relief. For minutes they had been convinced that they had lost to the sea; that their struggle was hopeless and their vessel doomed to flounder until the powerful waves filled her hold and sent her to the depths. Now they were level again, facing the wind and charging over the breakers with regular crashes that sent shudders through the hull and clouds of frigid spray into the air. The captain of the ship, Vasiliy Krasovsky, uttered a prayer of thanks as he stood on the bridge. His crew was of the same opinion, and all of them were now gathering themselves and seeing to the ship's recovery. Captain Krasovsky quickly got word from the crewmembers sent to check the cargo hold, and his aged face lined with fear and dismay all at once. Staring out the bridge, he received this news along with the awful view of the tempestuous ocean, the terrible words coming just as the waves, towering and unremitting, rushed towards the _Lepse_. Staring at the sea and feeling its undulations shake the very foundation of his courage, Captain Krasovsky frowned and let out a defeated sigh. He turned to his signals officer, and gave the word.

Only ten fathoms beneath the _Lepse_ , the _Sirona_ held a steady course. The fairies within it were waiting in silence, until Vera spoke up.

"I've got some news from the _Lepse's_ communications. High-level reactor waste is leaking inside their cargo hold and is mixing with the water they've taken on. It's splashing all over the place in there. The Captain's currently speaking to his commander…" Vera paused, nodding as she listened to the chatter. "The contamination is too severe for them to recover. They're going to change course and make towards Murmansk with all haste. They hope to make it to the Atomflot harbor."

"What's the status on the recovery of the _Naiad_?" Coral asked.

"The _Naiad_ is a loss, ma'am," the pixie replied. "Captain Endgrove and his crew have been successfully evacuated to the _Llŷr._ They have wounded in need of immediate critical care, so they are setting a course to Atlantis. HIGHCOM is aware of the situation and is hastening their preparation of the relief force."

"Knowing them, they will take over an hour to get here," Riagán added bitterly.

Coral took all of this in and made her decision in a matter of seconds. With Endgrove and his crew safe, and reinforcements a long ways away, it was just the _Sirona_ and the _Thalassa_ left to deal with the situation. And the situation was not much improved. The _Lepse_ was damaged, filled with water, and surrounded by an unforgiving sea. She may very well make it back to Murmansk, but it was even more probable that she would fail. Coral was determined to see it through to the end.

"We're staying with the _Lepse_ ," she said firmly. "Have the _Thalassa_ keep a distance from her, but follow as well. If the _Lepse_ sinks, we need to be there to mitigate the damage. Otherwise we must ensure it reaches port."

They had no choice but to leave behind the dozens of containers that had fallen overboard, but that was unavoidable. The course was set, the mission clear, and yet in but a moment something was not right. The _Thalassa_ , after getting their message, veered in front of the _Sirona_ and across the bow of the _Lepse_ , at a depth of ten fathoms. The waves were so powerful that they were pushing them around, and the _Thalassa's_ pilot evidently lacked the necessary experience to combat the pull of the water. Suddenly she was out of position, in front of the _Lepse_ and pushed further forward, and that was when a massive wave came up behind the human vessel, which had turned away from the wind towards the mainland.

The _Lepse_ rose upon the massive swell, her bow protruding out of the water like the nose of a whale, and at the same time the _Thalassa_ , carried forward and spun about by the unpredictable pull of the water, was directly in front of it, just beneath the surface. When the _Lepse_ crested the wave and hung balanced on its edge, the _Thalassa's_ crew could look up and see it looming forty feet above them on that mountain of water. And as inevitably as the very culmination of life, the human vessel tipped forward and descended the steep slope, casting torrents of white spray around it as its iron hull bit into the water once again. Its course, rapid and accelerated by the wave, brought it right on top of the _Thalassa_ , and there was nothing they could do in time to stop it. Waves crashed, water flew, and Coral, bearing witness to this sudden and harsh alignment of misfortune, opened her mouth wide to swear aloud. But she did not, so shocked was she by the sight of the _Lepse's_ hull slamming into the smaller submarine. The _Thalassa_ was struck with the force of twenty-thousand tons, right across her midsection and all at once. It was enough to split her in half, and with a burst of escaping air and a flash of discharging energy, she blew apart only a dozen meters in front of the _Sirona_. Coral stared at the array of twisted metal racing towards her, and though she instinctively yelled for Riagán to evade, she was paralyzed by dread and sickness. Riagán, despite his skill, could not avoid the disaster in time—everything was happening in the span of ten seconds. The wreckage of the _Thalassa_ slammed into them head on, striking with a deafening crash and shaking everything to its core. Everyone was thrown forward by the impact, and Coral, in that moment of chaos, felt her whole world shatter like glass.


	3. Through It All

**Somewhere in the Barents Sea**

The hands of fate, like time, are fickle and devious to the fragile beings of the world. And yet so many of these transient beings, throughout the length and breadth of their lives, have not seen it, have not felt it; they have not experienced the extent of the world's cruelty. So many countless scores of beings, man and fairy, skim over the years of existence to sink gently into a placid grave, ignorant of life to the last moment, without ever having been made to see all it may contain of perfidy, of violence, and of terror. Ignorance is an inebriating bliss, a chalice that many contrive to drink deeply from, and opposite it is the chalice of truth, with its bitter fluid making evident the reality of living. How many regret drinking the later, as opposed to the former? Many millions, all out of the same horror, faintness, and doubt that prey on us all; all having tested the waters of clarity, only to find that they are too scalding hot to bear. And yet there are others, a rare few amidst a sea of faces, that drink gladly and step into the tempestuous seas of life, facing its challenges and its terrors with determination and, more than anything, hope. In darkest hours, in deepest troubles, and through the most treacherous of paths, there are those who make that stand and do not falter, whose very hearts are of a different quality. They defy odds, defy the very nature of the brutal world, and move others to do the same. Inspirational courage, wondrous strength, and humbling selflessness mark their deeds. Coral Short had always seen the world through a clear lens, and never had she regretted knowing its truths. And now, in her darkest hour, she would find within herself the qualities that would change the world forever.

The pain that she felt was horrendous, startling, and inconceivable, and everything was blurred into a mass of colors that confused and terrorized. She heard the scraping of metal, the cracking of glass, and the ominous groan of the entire ship's structure as it was hammered by the wreck of the _Thalassa_. An alarm beeped, and she heard a cry in front of her, but everything was too distorted by the agony she felt. Weakness and terror preyed upon her in that moment, as in her temporary blindness it was easy to be afraid. But at the same time, within her heart of hearts, there ignited a fire, a passion, that shot forth into her mind and burned away the debilitating terror. _Come on, come to your senses!_ She gritted her teeth, blinking away her tears and trying to sit up again. She could taste blood, and feel it running down her face. _Get up!_

With a rush of adrenaline the elf came to her senses; like waking up from a nightmare, only to be living a greater one. Everything took shape before her, giving all of the sounds and smells a face, and as they did she recollected all that had happened not moments ago. She was suddenly struck by the gravity of the crisis, by the absolute importance of what was happening. Not yet thinking straight, Coral stood and rested against a control panel, all the while speaking with a raspy, shaken voice.

"Assume level five protocols…we must make…" She coughed, and when she did she noticed the sparks of magic swirling around her. Though she did not know at the time, she had broken several ribs which had subsequently punctured her left lung. Thanks to her magic, it was healed before it could slow her down. Blinking away the final wave of tears from her eyes, and wiping the blood from her brow, she set her eyes forward and spoke desperately. "Riagán, Vera, are you alright?"

She got no answer, and when she clearly saw the forward section of the control room she noticed that both of them were slumped over in their seats. And beyond, through a cracked window, was the madness of the sea—wreckage floating around them, waves churning above, and darkness waiting below. Parts of the control room had been thrown about. Screens shattered and panels malfunctioned, and the ship itself was on an angle, its propulsion halted. The _Sirona_ was adrift, but Coral did not care about that. She was terrified for her crew.

With a burst of motion that almost made her fall over, the elf rushed to their aid. They were in odd positions, like ragdolls tossed over unshapely furniture. Their safety harnesses had kept them relatively in one place, but the impact had been enough to slam them around nonetheless, and being closer to the impact point they had gotten the worst of it. Coral felt her heart in her throat, her pulse hammering and her mind screaming with worry as she approached. The first thing she noticed was that Riagán's helmet was all but shattered, its reinforced front obliterated by a sudden collision with the edge of a steel control panel. Blood covered his face, which was lacerated by shards, and each breath sent a spattering of crimson from his mouth. His magic was working too, but slower. Why was that? It was then that Coral realized that the _Sirona_ was breached—that radiation was seeping into her compartments, imperceptible but so very present.

"D'arvit!" she rasped, looking about fearfully at the cracks in the window and the water dripping from the ceiling—water tainted with death itself. Further back, she could hear a steady flow of seawater, somewhere in the stern section of the vessel. She cursed again, but despite her fear and uncertainty she acted swiftly. Riagán was completely out cold, and with radiation in the air his magic was being nullified. Opposite him, Vera was slumped over her control panel, breathing irregularly—pixies had thinner skulls than other fairies, making a fracture very likely in this case. It was a dreadful situation, and Coral did her best. She put her hands on both of them, and using what magic she could muster she gave them everything, every last bit before the radiation, in its tiny amounts, obliterated her magic completely. It was then that she found the presence of mind to look up. What she saw made her heart sink. "Oh gods no," she whispered.

Above her, against the illuminated backdrop of the surface, was the _Lepse_. A massive tear was visible in its underside, and from it was pouring a cloud of discoloring liquid—pure nuclear waste. Coral gritted her teeth, feeling sick and demoralized at the same time. But yet again her strength came to her, washing away her weakness and filling her mind with thoughts about what could be done. Something had to be done!

With the hole torn by the _Thalassa_ in its underside, the _Lepse_ had little chance of making it back to Murmansk. The thousands of tons of liquid waste in its hold, and the some six-hundred nuclear fuel assemblies it carried, would be sent to the bottom of the Barents Sea. It would spell disaster for the already damaged ecosystem, and spread throughout the region with effects far worse than the Chernobyl incident. The Arctic, Norwegian, Atlantic, and Greenland Seas would all feel its wrath in no time at all, and what about years later? It would be horrendous. The very thought of it sent a shiver of fear and disgust through Coral, as well as shame—if this was to happen, she would never be able to live with herself. She would sooner die that let it happen. What should she do?! What could she do? Questions bombarded her, and amidst their typhoon of uncertainty she suddenly found her answer. She found it naturally, gravitating towards it not out of self-preservation, but out of a sense of duty, selflessness, and hope. There was a way. Indeed, there always was. Looking up at the ailing _Lepse_ , Coral Short took a deep breath. Then she looked to her comrades, whose situation was far worse than hers. She could not let them die, not in this place, not like this.

"I am sorry," she whispered to them. "I am sorry for this. Please, forgive me when all is done…"

In utter silence she took them one by one, starting with Riagán, dragging them from their seats and towards the back of the room. She laid them down gently and ensured they would not roll around, and then, without any hesitation, she took off Riagán's ruined helmet. All of them had LEP NBC suits on, making them generally resistant to harmful radiation, but that was useless if their helmets were fried. Coral took hers—which she had not donned until moments ago—and put it on the young elf, sealed it, and then made sure that Vera's was secure as well. After doing this she reached into a small compartment and retrieved a canister of rad spray. The substance was designed to provide temporary protection from mid-level radiation, though it would not be enough in this case. She emptied the whole can onto herself. Then she stood up and made her way aft towards the storage room, where reserve gear was located.

It was at this moment that the true harshness of fate, or maybe chance alone, was made clear to her. The entire rear section of the _Sirona_ was flooding, and the storage room had been literally torn out by the collision, a tear in the hull letting the mighty sea suck everything out into the frigid deep. That breach had been sealed off by a heavy door, and Coral stared at it blankly, knowing then and there that everything inside was gone—the reserve helmet for her suit being one of them. It was so terrible that she didn't react apart from letting out a sigh. So this was the hand she had been dealt. This was it, her fate, her lot in life. There was no changing it now.

With the hope of sufficient protection gone, Coral went back to the cockpit and sat down in Riagán's seat, looking through the cracked window at the _Lepse_ —at her duty, at her fate, and maybe even her demise. She looked at it and felt the culmination of all of her life's experiences, everything, all coming together at once. This was the moment, this was the very hour amongst countless, that would dictate everything. Her blue eyes did not blink, but there was fear in them for certain; it was impossible for one not to be afraid. But there was also courage, determination, and a fire that could not be beaten. No, she would not be beaten.

Between the two options she had—fleeing or staying—she chose to stay. No one else was there to do it, and no one else would come in time. She was it, the one chosen by circumstance to shoulder this burden. And she would do so, gladly, if it meant protecting the world she loved. With that goal in mind, the elf looked at the controls and smiled thinly. "Sirona, thank you for all your hard work, but there is one last thing we must do." _One last mission._

Coral tested the controls and regarded the garbled diagnostics screen. The ship was damaged, but it had what she needed. _I can do this,_ she thought, looking ahead with a fierce expression whilst her hands gripped the controls with deathlike firmness. It was not that she could not pilot the _Sirona_ —she was almost as good as Riagán—rather it was the ship above her, the radiation slowly entering the space around her, and the sea, the merciless sea, enveloping her with its unyielding might. She was at the mercy of forces beyond her control, and yet her job was to withstand them. In spite of all that was against her, she carried on, regaining control of the _Sirona_ and steering her towards the _Lepse_ , which was taking on water fast.

Radiation was a terrible thing to humans, and many times so for fairies, whose natural purity and magic made them highly averse to it. Coral had never been exposed to radiation of this level before, and already she was feeling sick, even with the imperceptible barrier of radiation spray covering her exposed areas. Her stomach churned, her body trembled, and a cold sweat covered her skin. It was gradual, and when she came close to the _Lepse_ , to where its leak was pouring waste into the water, it proceeded exponentially. She gritted her teeth, fighting against its effects with all of her spirit, keeping her hands steady on the controls and her eyes on her target.

"Come on, please work," she rasped as she tried to reactivate the _Sirona's_ radiation capture field. It was actually undamaged, and went online without any delay, instantly beginning its work on the radiation escaping the torn hull of the human vessel—though not penetrating the metal hull to work on what was inside. It helped to reduce the amount getting inside the ship as well, but at such a close proximity to the source it was impossible to contain all of it. Coral knew that even at reduced levels the radiation was horrendous. And she had to stay that close, otherwise it would not work well enough, and then there was the tear itself—she had to mend it, otherwise it would all be for nothing.

The lights in the control room flickered and then went out, leaving only the light from the few screens, which were being swiftly damaged by the radiation. Everything was being damaged for that matter, as with the protective seal of the vessel broken all of the delicate electronics were exposed. Coral knew that she too was being destroyed, ever so slowly, but that did not deter her as she deployed the _Sirona's_ utility arm. The arm was equipped with a number of tools, one of them being a system that allowed for hyperbaric welding. That was not what she had in mind, however, as the tear was too wide and there was not enough time. Instead she deployed the memory foam; a substance crafted to temporarily seal breaches in ships' hulls. It would last for two hours exactly, and then dissolve completely. But applying it to the vessel as it rode upon the heavy seas, while also dealing with the crisis on her end, was not an easy task. One mistake, and the _Lepse_ could collide with her from above. This made every second intense and unforgiving, and as she got within range of the ship's underside—and the leakage—all of the hardships came at her combined and without a shred of mercy. Radiation levels rose, the water became rough and unpredictable, and the human vessel, rising a falling with the waves, came within meters of colliding with her. The first of these was the worst, despite it being only a fraction of what was really out there. Coral felt nausea and fatigue sweep over her like a veil, and the constant pain grew and grew to levels that even she thought as nearly unbearable. But even still, as this agony struck her, she kept her eyes on her work and, after struggling a little, began to apply the metallic foam.

For ten minutes she did this, having to stop regularly to avoid getting struck by the ship. Her whole body felt like it was on fire, and despite her iron determination there were tears streaming from her eyes, flowing freely and glinting in the half light. Her hands were shaking and her vision was blurred, and whenever she blinked it felt as if she could not open her eyes again. It was appalling on so many levels. It was hell. Gliding along in a steel coffin, she was slowly being killed by the ship she was trying to save, and the irony was not lost on her. She smiled bitterly, and then was overcome by the need to vomit. This happened numerous times, each one worse than the last, and eventually she had nothing left to throw up. The sickness was overwhelming, yet she held on, by a hair's breadth, to the hope that her work bespoke. She could not, would not, fail again.

Suddenly there came a shrill beeping sound, followed by the shuddering of the entire vessel. Coral barely noticed it, so caught up in her work, but looking at her screen she realized that yet another system in the _Sirona_ had failed. Like dominos the radiation was knocking down the ship's abilities, one by one, in an endless, irreversible row. Not even the _Sirona_ , with all of its upgrades, could stand against it now. Yet as she piloted it, Coral was amazed by how well the vessel performed, how she held her course and did everything she needed her to do. These horrendous circumstances had yet to beat the _Sirona_ , just as they had yet to beat Coral herself. She smiled, even though her body ached and her very heart was filled with fear. _I can still depend on you._ Nevertheless, though the _Sirona_ was a magnificent vessel, she was so only by the virtue of the frail creatures who handled her. And Coral, the only one able to handle her, was getting frailer by the moment.

Another large wave sent the _Lepse_ plunging down from above, and this time she only barely avoided a collision. The tear in the hull was almost fixed, and the radioactive waste was barely leaking out. But that final part was the hardest, rife with uncertainty and near-disaster. The whole while Coral's expression was the same—fierce, determined, and startlingly confident—though it wavered just a little as she applied the final layer of foam. "Come on…Just a little more!" Her words were dry and spoken with a rasp, as if she were starved and parched to the point of death. But her eyes, and her glare, were full of life, and they were a window into the spirit that had yet to be broken. Her body was shattering, but not that inner fire, not that core of iron that had made her who she was. Nothing could break it, not even this. Then, amidst the maddening currents and treacherous gloom, she completed her work. The tear was sealed, the radiation stopped, and the _Lepse_ had a new lease on existence.

Coral Short sat back with a deep sigh, seeing the underside of the ship through the cracked window and knowing that it was safe for the moment. She steeled a glance back towards her comrades, who were still unconscious. "We did it. I am sorry to leave you two out of it…" she said tiredly. Her eyes drooped, and her body threatened to go into a state of shock. But somehow, despite impossible odds, she held on. She had to.

A deep muffled groan from beyond got her attention, and when she looked she saw the _Lepse_ more clearly once again. She was low in the water, dangerously low, and each wave that struck her swept over her decks with frightening volume. Even with the hole in her hull blocked, she was still sinking; the threat of disaster still loomed, unchanged, only postponed. And yet again, when given the choice to flee, Coral did not. Even though flight would have been understood, even encouraged, she did the opposite: she charged into danger, into darkness, into the very clutches of death. She took the _Sirona_ right up to the _Lepse_ and, using magnetic clamps, attached to its hull. She applied the propulsion vertically, and set the submarine's buoyancy levels to their maximum, simulating an emergency surfacing. But instead of surfacing, the _Sirona_ pressed against the human vessel, and by that influence kept it afloat.

"That should do it…" Coral rasped as she put the _Sirona_ onto autopilot, making it so that it would maintain its upward thrust. That left her nothing to do but wait—wait until the _Lepse_ made it to Murmansk, until the lingering radiation made the autopilot useless, or the arrival of reinforcements. The latter was what Coral wished for, as she had sent out a distress signal the moment things had started to go wrong. Even without communications, the others could find her, and surely they were coming. They had to be! But there she was, alone, wasting away whilst the tempestuous environment hammered the _Sirona_ again and again. Atlantis was an hour away, and by the time any help arrived the _Lepse_ would have reached port or sank to the bottom. Coral knew that she was on her own, despite her hope that she wasn't. Such isolation, in the gloomy control room of the battered submarine, was maddening. She did not want to die in such a place. She did not want to die like this.

 _Then run away, save yourself while you still can._

If she fled now, it would be more possible for her lethal radiation poisoning to be treated. The temptation came to her smoothly, seductively, but she swatted it aside. Still, the thoughts persisted, even as the heavy blows against the ship and the groaning of metal distracted her. Being attached as it was, the _Sirona_ was bashed around and hammered by blow after blow, nonstop. They were jarring, frightening, as if they would split the ship in half. Coral feared this, and those temptations played on that fear. Within her battled the polar opposites of her yearnings: the primal instinct of self-preservation, and the acquired resolve to seek the greater good at her own expense—survival against sacrifice, selfishness against selflessness. Another crash shook her to the core, and yet again she felt like vomiting. Again she stood firm, determined to accomplish her mission. She focused on what she was fighting for, telling herself that it mattered. She thought of the ocean she had traversed to get there, the dolphins that had glided with her and the pod of whales that was not all that far away. She thought of all the beautiful things she had seen over the years, all of which were threatened by humanity, and told herself that if she acted selfishly, they would pay the price for her cowardice. She had to protect them, and she was, moment by moment, in everything she was going through. This comforted her, but it did not eliminate the fear. Fear was inescapable, indestructible, for anyone who clung to life. And she clung to life with a death grip, holding on as if dangling from a ledge above a bottomless void.

Sitting motionless in her seat, Coral had nothing to do but wait it out. She thought of her husband, and for the first time since the mission had begun she thought of Holly. Holly! That name pierced through her like a hot knife, and the memory of her face, her eyes, and her smile all blinded her for a moment, like a flash of lightning in the night. Sorrow filled her in an instant. There was a promise between them, and yet now, as she held onto life by a single thread of determination, Coral knew that it may be too late. To break her promise, to forsake her daughter, was an agony that outmatched the physical pain she was going through, and it served to make her cry out in a mixture of anger and sorrow. Her cry went unheard, and her sorrow, however potent, was real to no one but her. Hers was a lonely tragedy, surrounded by metal and water, set upon by radiation, and shadowed by the monsters of human creation.

Coral remembered the last time she had spoken to Holly, only hours ago. She remembered the happiness, and the hope, in her daughter's voice when she had made that promise to her, and she could envision, so clearly, the look of her smile and her wondrous hazel eyes. Her voice, echoing like a song, was preserved in memory as well.

" _Don't leave me too. Please, promise me that you will stay…"_

Tears glistened in Coral's eyes as she remembered, and before the frightening scene of the insane ocean beyond, she spoke sadly, brokenly. "I am so sorry…I promised…" This was the worst feeling she had ever experienced, worse than all of the pain and the fear combined. It was being caught like this, between her loves in life—her daughter, and her passion for the world. Had it been otherwise she would not hesitate to give her life for the latter, but now, as she sat alone in the gloomy _Sirona_ remembering her beloved daughter, she was paralyzed. What was her life worth? To Holly it was everything. Holly had no one else to call family, and no one as close to her. They had shared so much, survived so much, and had always loved each other unconditionally. How could Coral throw her life away without Holly even knowing? The thought of Holly doing the same terrified her, and that was how Holly must feel about her. Coral knew that if she died, it would hurt Holly more than anything else possibly could. It would break her heart, and threaten her very life. And yet the consequences of abandoning her mission were astronomical! Truly, this was the cost of living a life like hers; the consequence of living a double life. This was the price Coral had to pay, and how steep it was!

These thoughts, so potent and vivid, made everything around Coral seem far away. The ailing ship, the crashing waves, the shadowy depths, the danger, and everything else—all of it mattered not, when put up against those thoughts, those memories, and those dreams. Holly mattered more than all of them. She was everything.

"Holly…" she whispered, seeing not the madness before her but instead the young elf she was proud to call her daughter. She was so proud indeed, and so tragically sorry.

Then the _Lepse_ rose up on a massive wave, taking the little _Sirona_ with it, and down they crashed together. Everything shook and many things fell apart, leaving Coral in an even worse situation. But the time was ticking, and the human ship was surviving, thanks to her effort. There was not much farther to go. Coral swallowed her emotional agony and held on for dear life. At that moment more systems failed, including the radiation capture field, leaving her unprotected from the radiation still in the water and that which still lingered on the _Lepse_.

 **Kola Bay, North of Severomorsk, Russia**

The sky was a uniform grey above the dark waters of the Barents Sea, the latter only interrupted by the whitecaps as the waves rose and fell in their universal fashion, the ranks of undulations stretching into the apparent infinity of the sea. These waves crashed loudly against the rocky hillsides and cliffs that lined the shore, casting spray into the air which would then settle upon the rocks and freeze in the icy wind, leaving a treacherous surface that glistened with deceptive beauty. Beyond the shore were the hills of the mainland, patched with snow and the irrepressible arctic vegetation, and further still were the telltale signs of human civilization. It was April, and the spring had yet to come to the northern tip of the continent; it was below zero, to say the least. This cold environment seemed endless as it stood on the brink of the vast sea, and truly it was a harsh place, filled with dangers and rare in comforts. It stretched into the distance, which was hazed by a coming snowfall, and the air was filled with the scent of the ocean and the sound of its mighty voice as it rebelled against the stubborn shores—it rebelled and won patiently, ever so slowly, against the stone and the earth, eroding it over the ages.

The Kola Bay cut in between the looming hills of the tundra, winding inland towards Polyarny, Severomorsk, and Murmansk. It was to this familiar scene of refuge that the battered _Lepse_ arrived. She limped towards the bay in a ponderous, deathly fashion, moving at a third her usual speed and sitting low in the water, looking as though she would be swallowed at any moment. Though the Barents Sea was behind the ship, the waves still hammered against her sides and the wind still howled madly, as if they were determined to follow her to the ends of the earth, as merciless and inescapable as thirst to a desert wanderer. These two forces reluctantly died down when the floundering vessel reached the protection of the bay's mouth, and it was only then that her captain, Vasiliy Krasovsky, let his tired gaze falter. He sighed, wiping his bearded face with his right hand, and spoke with a hoarse voice that was so quiet that none of his colleagues heard him.

"We've made it…"

Vasiliy stood on the bridge with his crew, soaked and thoroughly disheveled, looking to all as if they were a modern rendition of Davy Jones' undead crew. The battle with the sea had taken its toll upon all of them, though more so psychologically than anything else. They had braved the cold and the fury of those waters before, for many days at times, and they had faced their fair share of grueling work at their stations during the sudden and frightening squalls that it threw at them. Not one of them was a green sailor, not even close, but as all men of the sea they feared and respected its power, its mystery, and its extraordinary character. This time, unlike all of the other voyages they had made, they had come close to feeling the very deathblow of the ocean. In fact, they had all been certain that they would not make it; that their odds were slim at best, and that the unforgiving waters would not leave room enough for margins. It was this brush with death, this horrendous encounter with doom and oblivion, that shook them all to their centers and left them numb to the world.

For Captain Krasovsky it was no different. He had felt unbridled fear as the _Lepse_ had nearly overturned, and though he never once gave up trying to save her he had nevertheless recited his prayers—for deliverance, forgiveness, and perhaps another chance. He had thought of his family, his wife and his three sons, and for the first time in his career he had realized just how far he was from them, for the sea was an entirely different world compared to where they waited for him. When the _Lepse_ had been failing and the massive waves kept coming, he had experienced a surreal moment. There he had stood at the wheel, staring out into the gloom and the madness, feeling his fragile world sway and shatter in a way he had never experienced before. An appalling sense of loneliness had overcome him then, a feeling of hopeless isolation that numbed his very soul. To be surrounded by such insanity, with death hanging over his head like a knife on twine, was a terrible thing. And to meet his end in such a place, so far away from those he loved, was his greatest nightmare. Now it was over. Land was in sight, and the _Lepse_ was going to make it with all hands back to Murmansk. He breathed deep and slowly, calming his frayed nerves and easing his troubled mind.

There were a number of vessels in the bay, and besides the usual container ships and icebreakers, there were numerous warships at anchor, evidently out to practice maneuvers. Captain Krasovsky sighted the fleet's flagship, the battlecruiser _Kirov_ , which was looming to starboard alongside the carrier _Baku_. He had been unable to communicate with the mainland for the latter part of the voyage, as the _Lepse_ had been literally falling apart. Now that he was able, he immediately had a message signaled to the _Kirov_ , detailing the situation and requesting assistance. In fact, the message didn't seem to be all that necessary, as just the sight of the ruined ship coming in was enough to make the officers aboard the nearby warships raise the alarm. Though he was still rigid, the promise of assistance helped ease Vasiliy's tension a little. Help was on the way, thank god.

His first mate had been standing at his elbow the whole while, and only now did he say something to his captain. He spoke in a shaken tone, as those who brush with death often do. "That was a devil of a storm out there. Not seen one like that in years. And those waves! Дерьмо! It should have had us back there!"

Captain Krasovsky only nodded, though internally he pondered it. Making it back to port was nothing short of a miracle, and truly there was no easy way to explain what had happened out there. One moment they were rolling over, the next they were facing the wind and, as if given a push, put on a level again by a force beyond their knowledge. The long battle through the swells afterwards was equally as improbable. The _Lepse_ had been finished, and yet she had survived, remaining afloat despite the water in her hold and the seas flooding her decks. It was absolutely ridiculous, but Krasovsky figured that it was good that way. It was much better to be utterly confused than dead, and even better to be able to see one's family again. He gladly accepted the miracle for what it was.

With his binoculars he could see that the _Kirov_ was lowering several boats, and even from a distance he could tell that everyone in them was suited up in protective gear. No doubt they were terribly afraid of the radioactive waste sloshing around in the _Lepse's_ hold, and though the harmful radiation was mostly sealed away from the upper deck, they were right to take every precaution. With the boats inbound, the captain's thoughts naturally drifted towards the state of his ship. He had no doubt in his mind that the _Lepse_ had seen her final voyage, and he could already envision her laid up in one of the scrapping yards in Murmansk. But she was too irradiated to be scrapped. No, she would likely sit at anchor for years, doomed and yet given time to rot in the cold arctic water. Her fate was assured, but not in a timely fashion. Regardless, Captain Krasovsky knew that this would be his final command, not because of failure—he had done everything in his power in terrible circumstances—but because of the realization of his own mortality. He was getting old, while the sea was as strong as ever, and to continue his struggle against its natural fury would only serve to wear him out like the old _Lepse_ , or perhaps even take his life. This horrible trial had been too much for him, and now all he wanted was to be safe on land with his family. He would live a more peaceful life and support them, and he would never command a vessel again; that life, and all of its temptations, bore none of the allure it used to. The passion for the sea had set sail with his youth, as had his love for perilous adventure. There was only the sedentary life now.

Stretching his limbs, and feeling his years in every fiber of his being, the captain eyed the bridge of his ship and reminisced, remembering the years he had spent on her, and the years before he had spent on other vessels. Then came the sound of the _Kirov's_ boats and the hail of their officers. Vasiliy put on his hat, assumed the demeanor that suited a captain, and went to meet the boarding team. When he stepped out into the cool air he was immediately greeted by the sight of the men climbing aboard via the starboard ladder. The officer in charge was the first aboard, and he was quick to greet Vasiliy. Dressed in an olive-colored OP-1 defense suit and wearing a PMG gas mask, he looked like one of the liquidators of Chernobyl, and he certainly acted like it, glancing about with evident unease due to the imperceptible but deadly hazard that filled the ship's hold. After greeting each other, the officer walked with the captain and spoke quickly, eager to get off the ship.

"The _Ayanka_ will tug you the rest of the way."

The weary captain nodded silently.

The officer's puzzled expression was evident even from behind his gas mask. "It is an astounding stroke of luck that you made it back at all." He spoke with a solemnity that conveyed his awareness of the treacherous seas and those who had been lost to it. "I have never seen such a lucky ship, or a luckier crew."

Captain Krasovsky frowned, stopped in his tracks, and looked out towards the raging sea he had left behind—the sea that had almost taken him away, forever, and yet had been denied its prey. Like looking into a profound mystery, he gazed in silence. "Perhaps," he said after a while. "But I have a feeling that luck had nothing to do with it at all…"

The officer shrugged, looking altogether stoical in his restrictive radiation gear, and left to see to his duties. Captain Krasovsky kept gazing into the tempestuous ocean, remembering what it was like to sit in its jaws and feel its unfathomable might. So captivated was he by these vivid memories that he failed to notice that the _Lepse_ had suddenly dropped a few meters deeper, as if she had taken on more water. Neither did he notice a shadow moving past her starboard side beneath the frothy swells. A moment later, like a wisp of smoke in a steady gale, it was gone, completely unnoticed by the humans whose fates had been tied to it. They would never know what had happened that day. They would never know the name of the one who had saved them all.

 **Barents Sea, Directly North of Kola Bay**

There was no light in the cramped control room apart from the steady glow of the few remaining screens, and they were garbled to the point of illegibility, made useless by the enduring yet imperceptible presence of radiation. The sensors did not work, the thrusters were failing, the hull was leaking, the communications were utterly fried, and about a million other little things were going wrong to boot. The complex masterpiece that was the _Sirona_ had done its best, and though it was falling apart at the seams it was still going, moving through the frigid water and resisting the force of the currents with a seemingly bottomless tenacity. It was the sort of machine that worked until it was utterly destroyed, and that was also reflected in her pilot. Coral Short, or at least what was left of her, still held on fast to the controls, still carrying her ship and her friends onward to safety. This was all she could do, and all she was capable of, for the moment at least. Her body was weak, her mind frayed, and yet in spite of being in such a devastated state, her spirit was as hot as ever, filled with determination and courage through all of the darkness that had risen. Even as the wretched effects of severe radiation poisoning began to set in, Coral kept trying, trying, and trying, and by that astounding perseverance she succeeded.

She had detached from the _Lepse_ and retreated as stealthily as she could, narrowly avoiding an encounter with an Akula-class submarine, the _Bryansk_ , while she was exiting the bay. From that point onward things seemed to be clear, though she could not tell with her systems all ruined by the radiation. Her body was ruined too. There she sat, practically leaning on the controls as her body's strength depleted. It was all she could do just to steer, and there was so much more required of her. She was beyond sick, feeling the need to vomit so often that she had gotten used to it, to the point that it felt normal. A blasting headache boomed in her head and made every motion difficult, and she knew that she had a terrible fever as well, so hot that it was indescribable. Dizziness and fatigue came and went in regular waves, and none of the wounds on her body healed at all, nor did they even clot properly. She would cough often, in terrible fits, and every time she could taste blood in her mouth and see it on her hands. She would wipe that blood away on her uniform, streaking it crimson, and then try to resume her work, doing her best to navigate while her whole body trembled. Sweat poured down her face in glistening rivulets, and whenever she wiped her brow she consequentially touched her hair, only to feel it come loose in her open palm, clumps at a time. Strands of that lustrous auburn hair covered her lap, fallen like dead leafs from a stunted tree. And like an uprooted tree she was, visibly deteriorating against the forces around her, her beauty and life drying up so swiftly that it was visible to the eye with each passing minute. It was horrific, and yet she did not think about it at all. She did not even look at herself, not because she was afraid of what she would see, but because she was too focused to do anything else. The one thing that had not changed was her eyes—they still glinted with that fierce temper, that bottomless character, and stared ahead with unflinching resolve. She put her everything into it, and then somehow more, all for the purpose of the thoughts in her head. She was thinking about Holly, and like a beacon she guided her, through the gloom of the stormy sea and towards salvation. Nothing else could have instilled more power in her than the image of her beloved daughter; her familiar eyes, her beautiful face, her dazzling smile, and her unforgettable voice. Like an enormous gemstone mounted on a pyramid in a flat desert, basking in the blazing sunlight, it was all Coral could see and adore amidst her world of devastation and darkness. She clung to it, and it was by that action that she clung to life itself.

It was clear that the way back to Atlantis was too far and difficult for the poor _Sirona_ to travel, but Coral was hoping to get as close as she could. She knew that help was coming, it had to be, and so she would meet them as quickly as she could. Regardless, her ship had a transponder that made it traceable in any environment, and unlike everything else it was heavily protected in its own shell from the radiation. _Please…please come for me,_ she thought, gritting her teeth. She needed them, but not for herself—her fear was for her friends, who still lay unconscious behind her. If anyone was to survive, it would be them, and that's what she wanted. They were young, brilliant, and had yet to even fall in love. They had so much before them, so many wonders and dreams to realize, and Coral knew from experience how precious that was; how irreplaceable, how wonderful. As their captain, she owed them her best, and as their friend, she owed them every ounce of her courage and strength. She would see them through, and they would live on even if she did not. Their journey had just begun, whilst Coral had walked the earth for hundreds of years. She had seen almost everything, felt what it was like to be loved and to love, and lived the life that she had dreamed of. And she had Holly—the pinnacle of her pride, the greatest thing in her life. Death terrified her, but at least she knew that her life was well lived, and that she had done everything she could. Still, she could not leave Holly behind, not unless there was no other way. Despite what her rational mind said to her, she wanted to survive too.

The _Sirona_ made it a little farther through the dark waters of the Barents Sea, and then she suddenly lurched, her power reducing and her speed falling like a stone. Coral, covered in her own blood, could only growl in frustration as she lost control of the ship. The _Sirona_ banked to the side, got swept by a current, and nearly spun into a rock. When Coral, through admirable strength of mind and body, managed to regain a semblance of control, she saw something else to make her heart beat faster. A massive shadow was ahead of her, moving steadily through the water like an enormous pillar of black metal. And that's what it was. It was a human submarine. Coral cursed the _Sirona's_ broken sensors and went into a dive, all the while seeing—and even hearing—the approach of the massive vessel. The sandy bottom of the sea was there to meet her, and she settled on it hastily. Then, with a few flicked switches, she shut down nearly every remaining system in the _Sirona_. The ship's stealth ability was gone thanks to the damage, so she had to do it old-school, making it silent and lifeless like the many rocks around her. It was not a moment too soon that she did this, because the human submarine was right on top of her, cutting through the water with its massive bow. Coral looked up at it, and she held her breath as she saw the warship gliding past her, not twenty feet away.

Being so close to such a ship, so close to discovery, made her heart beat fast and her pain increase, but she remained silent and motionless, eyes wide as she watched the ship pass by. It was so close she could read the name on its side, K-278 _Komsomolets_. The Russian submarine, at three hundred eighty-five feet in length, took its time passing, and it was a terrible, intense moment for the elf in the little _Sirona_. She could hear its propellers, the groan of its metal, and in her mouth she tasted fear. There was nothing worse than being discovered by the humans; it would lead to catastrophe on a scale that no one could mitigate. The _Komsomolets_ passed and started to fade into the shadows, but then she came about, moving slowly by with purpose. Coral stared, feeling panic start to make its way into her mind. Had they noticed her before she went silent? Did they know where she was? There was no way of telling for sure, but the humans aboard were curious about something, and they were acting on it.

 _D'arvit! I don't need this!_ Coral thought angrily as the submarine made another pass. Meanwhile her body continued to deteriorate, and the _Sirona_ , sitting half submerged in sand, kept leaking. These proved to be the most intense and most wretched moments of the whole ordeal, for she was at the end of her rope, and yet she still had to hold on while utter destruction loomed above her. It was hard, so very hard, but the thought of Holly helped her through it, just as it had before. If only Holly knew how much strength her mother found in her; if only she knew that Coral, at that very moment, was surviving because of her.

Seconds, and minutes, progressed in silence. The human submarine made another pass, and when it faded into the darkness it did not come around again, instead disappearing like a beast of legend. It had taken ten minutes, but the humans were gone, finally. Coral could breathe regularly again, and move around without fear of being detected. She was so terribly weak, but she had enough strength to try to bring the _Sirona's_ propulsion system back online. But when she tried, nothing happened, and when she tried again all she got was a brief, precious blip of life from the ship before it died again. It was enough to make her bang her fist on the control panel, and she spoke desperately at the inanimate vessel around her.

"Come on, Sirona, just one more time! For me!"

Another three tries yielded nothing, and in fact several more things broke in the process. The _Sirona_ was now nothing more than a resilient metal shell with a barely operational oxygen recycling system, stuck in the sand at a depth of seven-hundred feet. The darkness was oppressive, making the looming expanse of the sea beyond a mysterious, nightmarish place. Coral stared at the blank screen before her, and despite the urge she did not panic. Instead, with an air of solemnity, she sat back and let out a tired sigh.

"It's alright, Sirona, I understand…We've both been through a lot…together…"

How true it was. Through hell and back they had traveled, into the inferno and all of its hopelessness and then straight up towards salvation, though only to be trapped in a gloomy purgatory on the bottom of the sea. There they had to wait, like a wayward soul, for release by the forces beyond their control, in this case the arrival of any sort of assistance from Atlantis. Coral hated this, and yet she found not enough anger and frustration within herself to get riled up. Instead it was easier to accept it, like an inevitable change in the weather, for indeed there was no sense in quarreling with it. Natural forces are not quarrelsome, after all. You cannot quarrel with the wind that irritates you by blowing off your hat, nor could you quarrel with the sun that beats down on you, or the heat of a sultry day. What happened was not out of spite for her, but just the natural progression, in this case the natural deterioration of an unnatural contrivance. Coral let her tension subside as much as possible, all the while staring out into the blackness. She did not like the view. It made her feel so alone, so trapped, so utterly hopeless.

 _You don't have to be alone._

Coral was drawn, by that very thought, to her command chair further back. She moved shakily, precariously, from the pilot seat, holding on to every surface to avoid falling on her face, and she proceeded determinedly to her objective, driven by passion and need alike. She made the last effort of the journey to get up the few steps to the captain's chair, and then into the seat itself. All of the screens and controls around it meant nothing to her, and she gave not even a glance to them. Her eyes were always on the same thing, which even in the gloom she could see, as if the connection she had to it made it glow with an otherworldly light. Her husband was there to greet her, as was Holly, both present by the lifeless squares of paper they were printed on; and yet so much life they gave! Coral reached for them, like a dying being for a last drink of water, and nearly fell over grabbing hold. Then she held them close so as to see them well in the dark, and in silence she observed every detail, every line, every glimmer, that was visible in the pictures—every memory they immortalized. When all else was fallen, and with hope at its last redoubt, she found comfort, and faith, in these images of the past.

Water dripped on her from above, one drop at a time, but she did not notice. She could not feel anything at this point, being beyond the threshold of pain and awareness. Even her mind, despite its fierce resolve, was beginning to slip, and this was evident in the way her surroundings, and her terrible circumstance, became unnoticeable to her. All that was to remain was what mattered most, in that dark moment; that which she held dear was what stayed with her, whilst everything else slid down the declivity of oblivion. Those pictures were all that mattered to her, and the memories they helped dig up made her smile in a sad, broken fashion. Life was such a wonderful thing, so precious and so fleeting in all of its blessings.

Coral Short fell into the hands of unconsciousness a few moments later, whisked away by the forces of trauma and decay. After pushing through so much hardship, so many trials, she finally let go, unknowingly, of the strength that kept her going. There was no shame in it, for even the strongest wither, and even the mountains crumble. It was remarkable, how far she had gone, how well she had performed, and it was not in vain either. Nothing of what she had just done was in vain, not a moment of it. By her strength, her courage, and her spirit, she had finished her mission, saved her crew and the humans aboard the _Lepse_ , and protected the world from a catastrophe. One life on a scale against all of that was minuscule, and yet to some it was too much. For Holly, it would never be justified.

The _Sirona_ lay on her side in the depths, in darkness and decay, and all was still within her. When a fleet of LEP ships arrived, they found the captain, Coral Short, motionless in her chair with two photos clutched in her right hand so tight that they could not be removed. She was covered in blood and filth, her hair falling out and her skin ruined, and tears streaked down her face—tears of blood. And yet, despite all of this, there was a smile on her face, shining through all of the terror and the darkness like a single flame in a void of nothingness. Which is better, to curse the darkness or to light a single candle? In her final moment of consciousness, despite how terrible everything was, Coral had found a reason to light that little flame.


	4. Together

**Police Plaza, VR Simulation Room**

The sound of gunshots and laser blasts filled the air with a deafening chaos that would shake any normal person's senses, and they were answered by the distinct report of a neutrino service pistol. Bursts of blue energy shot through the embattled air, contending against the flash of muzzles and the crimson flare of crude lasers, and all in all resulting in a crossfire that seemed to have no end. Through this madness Corporal Holly Short flew, firing swiftly and yet accurately, striking her enemies with devastating shots that sent them to the ground in an instant. Their shots flew all around her, and she avoided them by ducking behind a concrete barrier, which was subsequently riddled with bullet holes that cast fragments through the air. She controlled her breathing, kept her weapon at the ready, and used all of her senses to determine her opponents' moves. All the while she kept track of the score.

 _Ninety seconds…Fifty targets…_

With a burst of adrenaline she aimed over the barrier, and then fired into several foes, who all fell backwards with cries and throes, some spraying their weapons erratically while others simply dropped like ragdolls. The enemies, which were actually holographic, were a variety of fairy species, though all similarly armed to the teeth and skilled enough to fight. They set upon her with realistic behavior, coordinated with each other, and even yelled colorful curses at her in the process. This made it even more satisfying to put a neutrino shot into their chests, like she just did.

 _Eighty, forty-six…_

Bullets suddenly tore away most of the concrete barrier, showering her with holographic fragments—her VR suit made it so that they felt like it too. She gritted her teeth, thought quickly, and fired a burst into a trio of hostiles that had been flanking her position. They fell, and as they did she rushed over them, using the gap in their forces to reach a better vantage point. It was an urban setting, meaning that everyone had a lot of cover, not just her. They fired from the rooftops, from the windows and doors, and everywhere else imaginable, and by her quickness of thought and swiftness of action she never got struck, not once, and always hit her target. Sliding to a halt behind a dilapidated vehicle, Holly upped the setting on her neutrino and ensured proper breath control. Her heartbeat hammered in her ears, and her whole body was afire with the sensation of adrenaline and fierce determination. Sweat dripped down her brow, simulated stench assaulted her nostrils, and the sounds harassed her endlessly, just like the day before, when she had been in a real gunfight. She remembered it well, especially everything she had done wrong. Having brushed so close with death that day, she was determined to improve. She had to get better, no matter what, because sooner or later she would be in an even worse situation without any of the luck she had had before. She refused to meet her end like that.

Again she engaged the enemy, moving steadily through the street and watching every angle she could, all the while shooting hostiles while at the same time sparing the civilians that popped up unexpectedly. When a laser bolt nearly hit her in the face, she threw herself to the ground while firing, knocking down three enemies in rapid succession.

 _Twenty, thirteen…_

A goblin wielding a human shotgun burst out of a door behind her, grinning with convincing malice. Holly rolled to the side, dodging a blast of double-odd buckshot, and then swept the legs out from under the goblin. Up she went as he fell, and she subsequently shot him in the upper chest, knocking him out. Another group came at her, this time more prudently, but she bested them by vaulting over a car and right into their midst, surprising them with a withering burst of neutrino fire and a very intimidating roar. Their reaction, as realistic as everything else, made Holly grin a little, though she kept her mind on the mission.

 _Ten seconds…_

The remaining enemies were all around her, and they all attacked at once. Bullets flew, lasers glowed, and neutrinos flashed, culminating with a clash that had everything descend into madness. Exactly ten seconds later there came a loud beep from overhead, followed by a flicker throughout the simulated street. Unconscious fairies were everywhere, along with smoke, bullet holes, and burns, looking like a warzone. In the middle of it stood Holly, untouched by it all, holding her neutrino readily and scanning the battlefield around her, not once losing her focus. Then, all of the sudden, it all disappeared, leaving her alone in a vast, empty chamber. With an exhilarated smile Holly holstered her neutrino and flipped up her VR visor, and upon doing that she spun about to look at the large window on one end of the room. She made a sign with her right hand and grinned confidently. "All clear!"

" _Another perfect score,"_ an enthusiastic voice replied from the overhead speakers. _"And a new record, naturally."_

Holly proceeded to the door that had opened beside the window, leaving the simulation chamber and entering the control center. There she was met by the eccentric owner of that voice, her good friend and veritable partner in crime, Foaly. Dressed in his lab coat and cradling a datapad, he looked the part for an LEP technical officer, yet the grin on his face and the mischievous glint in his eyes made it evident that, despite his position, he was a bit of a loose cannon—just like Holly.

"To think that you can pull this off after getting no sleep and arriving five hours early," the centaur said. "Most of the officers I know wouldn't be able to properly point a neutrino at this time, let alone obliterate their personal records for the thirtieth time consecutively in two months."

The need to train was her official reason for being there. But beneath that, it was simply because she had nowhere else to go that was better. She had gotten home late the night before, and despite being weary from a long day she had been incapable of getting any sleep. It was one of those odd nights when, despite every desire to rest, the mind and the body would not cooperate. Throughout the night she had been set upon by an ominous dread, a feeling that something terrible was happening, somewhere to someone, and eventually she had given up completely. In a rotten mood by then, she had donned her uniform and made her way to Police Plaza, roughly five hours early for her shift. Naturally, with all that spare time, she figured she'd blow off some steam and, her tempestuous mind permitting, have a little fun. After doing just that, she shrugged her shoulders. "I just needed to blow off some steam I guess." She looked beyond Foaly to see a bunch of new recruits standing in the observation area. They had watched her work, and upon seeing her up close—seeing that she was a girl especially—they gaped and muttered reverent curses. This made Holly smile a little, as she remembered the time when she had been impressed by others' handiwork in the simulation. How things had changed.

"Why they relegated you to traffic duty for another eight months, I don't know," Foaly continued, walking with her down the hall. "You should be in recon with that trigger finger of yours."

"That's the top brass for you," Holly muttered, sotto voce—it would not do for a superior officer to hear her denouncing them. "Besides, there's more to recon than just shooting things, a lot more."

"True, but staying alive is paramount, and being able to take out fifty bad guys without so much as a scratch certainly helps."

Holly shrugged again, and nodded. "Perhaps."

Foaly then made a flamboyant gesture with his arms, speaking with a silly grin. "But alas, you beat my coded scenario once again! I'm going to need to code an entirely new scenario, that way you may actually be challenged."

It was Holly's turn to make a silly face, taking part in the friendly jesting that went on between them. "Bring it on, I bet you can't."

Foaly cocked an eyebrow, still grinning. "Oh it's on."

"A crate of carrot juice to the winner?" Holly asked, extending her hand to seal the deal.

Foaly, given his absolute confidence in his own abilities, did not hesitate. He clasped her hand and shook it, thereby sealing his fate. "You bet. And just so you know, I like the no name brand with the blue label. You'll need that for future reference, trust me."

"Yeah, keep thinking that Foaly, it will only make the look on your face when I win more memorable."

The centaur snorted and crossed his arms. "You should have more faith in my genius. After all, _I am_ a genius."

Holly grinned and opened her mouth to reply, but the beeping of her communicator interrupted their conversation and left them both silent. She grabbed it off her belt and brought it to her ear, and though she opened her mouth to speak she said nothing; she was stopped by immediate speech on the other end, and whatever it was, it made her freeze. Her eyes widened into saucers, and all of the sudden her other hand was on her holster—a habit of comfort, a response to mortal fear. She listened to the voice on the other end—it was the Commander of LEPmarine himself—and only when it stopped did she utter a nearly unintelligible affirmation. Her arm went slack, her hand numb, and the communicator crashed to the floor. She didn't even notice dropping it, and neither was the crash perceived by her senses. Nothing in the material world could reach her as she stood there, frozen by a nightmare. "Oh gods…" she rasped, her voice filled with anguish and fear. She suddenly leaned against the wall, staring into oblivion, and Foaly could see that she was trembling.

"Holly, are you…?"

For one reason or another, Holly did not hear the centaur's words. She didn't even acknowledge his presence. She simply broke out into an astonishing sprint, whooshing past him with a rush of air and the sound of her boots striking the tiled floor. Foaly had no idea what had just happened, but in that fleeting moment he had seen the tears in her eyes and the look of utter torment on her face—neither of which he had ever seen from her before to such a degree. He looked the way she had sprinted, muttered a worried curse under his breath, and then rapidly grabbed his datapad from his belt. By the time he knew what had happened, Holly was long gone.

* * *

So fragile is the heart, and yet so strong are its fancies; as lasting as ancient mountains, and as steadfast as wrought iron, firm in its loyalties despite how fleeting, how transient life could be. And how unpredictable it was, this force of the soul, in how its hand drives one to great lengths and extraordinary efforts, beyond boundaries and through barriers with an unstoppable tenacity, recalcitrant against the very workings of the heavens. In it can be found depthless courage, astounding selflessness, and incomprehensible strength; and like a potent madness it cannot be shaken, not for all the world, not for life itself. It snares us, by our own will, and drives us down treacherous paths, whose ways are narrow and whose destinations are worth every moment of trial and hardship. Such a force burned within Holly, with a mighty vengeance, and its power gave her strength upon strength. She ran faster than she had ever before, through the plaza and beyond without so much as the passing of a minute, and whence out into the artificial outdoors of Haven, she did not slow. She could not slow, not now, not until she was where she wanted to be. That place, that desire, was with Coral, her beloved mother.

With passion and fear coursing through her like liquid fire, Holly strapped on a pair of wings—which she had grabbed during her mad dash out of the building—and launched herself into the air, ignoring procedures and throwing caution into the wind. She ignored those who tried to stop her, their remonstrations and very existences irrelevant. Nothing mattered to her now but the last shred of family she still had. And so she flew, breaking limits and ignoring the teeming city completely, weaving between buildings and through air traffic by skill, instinct, and reflex. Her destination was Haven Memorial Hospital, a few kilometers away, and no matter how fast she went it was not good enough for her troubled heart and shaken mind.

 _D'arvit, d'arvit, d'arvit!_ She was furious, provoked by fear and sorrow, utterly inconsolable. The only thing that would ease her fury was the sight of her mother, and the knowledge that she was not as the commander had said—that she would be alright, that she would live. She had to live! It was not possible for her to die like this, surely! Holly could not imagine losing her, even with all of her experience of the real world and all of its harsh realities. It was the one thing she could not accept, even though it was perfectly possible. Damn the possible! To hell with reason! She refused to give up hope. She refused everything upon that heartfelt wish.

Tears stung her eyes, caused equally by sorrow and the helmetless flight at speed, and there was a lump in her throat, a terrible feeling rising from her chest, that threatened to make her cry. She fought it back, remaining strong, glaring ahead and gritting her teeth even as tears flowed from her eyes and glittered in the air like rainfall in sunlight. She could not break now, not when Coral needed her. _Come on, faster! Faster d'arvit! Go! Go!_ Her thoughts were all pushing her onward, screaming like a gallery of passionate observers, all determined for her to get to her mother's side, by whatever means. She could see the hospital now, not too far away, its white walls and telltale design setting it apart from the rest of Haven's sprawl. Once her eyes were upon it Holly went low and fast, skimming rooftops and startling those below. She knew that Coral would be there; the commander had told her, unambiguously, that she had been shuttled from Atlantis and was due to arrive any moment. Holly had to be there, and not a moment too late.

 _Please, wait for me,_ she thought desperately. The front entrance of the hospital was ahead, and before it was the grand yard, filled with gardens, ponds, and pathways for the patients. Holly blasted over this verdant place without any regard for it, sending flowers and leafs cascading through the air in a whirlwind of colors. She skimmed the pond nearest the entrance, accidentally bouncing off it its surface and nearly emptying it as a result, and then she reversed her wings' thrusters to slow herself down. It was such a close call that she stopped right at the automatic doors, which opened welcomingly. She tossed her wings off, leaving them beside a shocked nurse who'd been taking a break there, and stormed inside with an air of complete urgency.

Everyone in the lobby got out of her way once they saw her, and she did not pay any attention to them. She knew where to go, and none of the staff could stop her, not even if they tried. Anyone who got in her way risked complete annihilation, and the fact that she was dressed in her uniform gave her a little more freedom to do as she pleased. _Where are you?_ She burst through the doors leading into the emergency reception area, where severe cases arrived via shuttle, and it was then that her hazel eyes, so wide with terror, found what they were so desperately searching for.

 _Mom…_

Across the large room, through the side entrance, had appeared a team of medical warlocks pushing one of the advanced hover-stretchers, and their hasty appearance was met by a full team of specialists. For Holly, all that existed was the motionless form in that bed—the auburn hair, the willowy figure, and the unforgettable face. It struck her like a bullet, hard and fast, bringing the reality crashing down with further strength upon her. The nightmare was real, right before her eyes. This was terror in its rawest form, pure and unblemished, and it sliced through her heart with an ease that nothing, not even the fear of death, could match. It made futile all of her strength, all of her discipline, and even the hardened core of her being; all inane, all useless.

Upon seeing Coral, she did not stop. She broke past a throng of personnel and sprinted towards the rushing group, all the while screaming aloud. "Mother! Coral!" They were taking her towards the intensive care unit, which was beyond the large room through a white corridor. Holly was on their heels, but her appearance was noticed and a number of staff moved to stop her. It would be foolish of her to interrupt their work, but she was so overcome by fear and sorrow—the madness of her love—that she did not see reason. All she saw was her mother, motionless on that stretcher as if dead. She didn't even notice the others blocking her path until one of them, a gnome, spoke firmly.

"I'm sorry miss, but no visitors are allowed beyond this point!"

Holly looked at the gnome and felt an incomprehensible anger overcome her. "It's _officer_ to you, civilian!" she growled, pushing him aside and glaring darkly. "Now get out of my way, all of you!"

The doctor was determined, grabbing her by the shoulder. "We cannot! Her life is in danger and they must operate immediately!"

"Let go of me!" Holly yelled, turning on the gnome in rage.

"Going in there will only disturb our team! It will hurt her even more!"

"Shut up! You shut up!" Holly roared, grabbing the gnome's hand and removing it from her shoulder. She looked back down the hall to see that Coral was gone, and that set her off like a flare. She started to move again, but was blocked in front and restrained from behind, all in all by ten fairies whose determination to protect their patient was far outmatched by Holly's desire to be with her mother. She cursed them, and proceeded to punch and kick her way free, knocking half of them to the ground in an instant and making the others tumble back in fear. Another trio joined the fray, and she punched the first across the mouth, the second in the gut, and then roundhouse kicked the third through a door. Seething with anger, and so confused by all the fear and adrenaline rushing through her, Holly tried to enter again, only to be stopped by even more dedicated fairies. This time there were too many, and at that moment her unhinged mind thought of drawing her neutrino and shooting her way through. That thought, in its madness, was enough to make her pause out of sheer astonishment; like a sleepwalker awakened by the touch of cold water to see that she had almost fallen into a rushing river. She realized at that moment how quickly she had lost control, and how close she had been to falling over the edge. Her hand was on her holster, trembling madly, and she stopped herself then and there, feeling a wave of clarity wash over her. Her fury and madness subsided, and her body, rigid and filled with adrenaline, lost its driving force. She lost it all, and the multitude of hospital staff dragged her back, away from Coral and whatever fate had done to her, away from her greatest desire. She felt weak all of the sudden, tired in spirit and in body, but her sorrow and fear remained, and it preyed upon her in her moment of defeat. With tears in her eyes and affliction in every aspect of her countenance, Holly was pulled away. She did not fight back, and when they sat her down all she did was stare blankly at the white floor, as if her sorrow had left her hollowed out and lifeless. And she sat there for hours, wallowing in torment and shame.

Time passed with the slowness of eroding rock, seconds and minutes dragging their heels upon their imperceptible pathways as if to scorn the lonely fairy who sat with her face in her hands. Tears spilled through her fingers, having pooled in her palms and overflowed, and they speckled her uniform one by one, almost noiseless and not heavy enough to feel—and yet what a loud and mighty force they bespoke, one hidden in the hearts and minds of the afflicted. Holly let them fall, let them mottle her clothing, and she did not care at all what anyone thought. She was long past the point of caring about anything but her mother. That was all that mattered to her, and yet there was nothing she could do. Nothing! It drove her mad with each passing moment, made her sick and so terribly upset. It filled her with self-loathing, even though any objective observer would deem her blameless. She hated herself for not being able to change that which was out of her control—despised for not doing the impossible. _What do I do? What do I do?!_ This repeated in her mind, along with all of the other questions and fears, all without answer. Ultimately, all she could do was wait, however long it took, for the inevitable result of the battle that was raging behind closed doors. As a fighter and a daughter, she wanted nothing more than to be in that battle, but it was beyond her abilities, beyond her touch. She was nothing more than an observer to her mother's fate—to her survival, or her death.

She sat motionless, praying for the best and making wish after wish. The hospital staff clearly sympathized with her, even though she had given a few of them noticeable bruises. They gave her space, offered her food and water—which she refused—and overall displayed a remarkable level of professionalism. They didn't even call the police, not because she was an officer herself, but because they knew that she was not insane and most certainly not a threat, at least now that she had calmed down. They had seen it many times before, and knew a shattered, terrified being when they saw one.

For ten hours she sat there, getting more and more tired. She dozed off and on, passing from the nightmare of reality into the twisted horrors of her dreams, and never did she find rest. Foaly called her, informing her that she would not be penalized for skipping her work—apparently the top brass still had hearts behind their stony veneers. It mattered little to her either way, though it was good to talk to her friend, who was about the only person in the world that could still break through to her in that dark moment. Then she was alone again, waiting and waiting. Another hour later, when she had almost drifted into a dreamless sleep, she was startled by a voice to her right and a hand on her shoulder. She nearly jumped out of her skin, and so frayed were her nerves that she almost punched the doctor who had had enough courage to disturb her. But when he preemptively began filling her in on the progress of Coral's treatment, she listened attentively and stayed her fist. Deep within her heart she had been expecting good news, but true to her fears, she received the opposite. A minute of this, and she was left emptier than before, dried up like a pool of water in a desert. She sagged back in her seat, deflated, and breathed in long, pacifying breaths, trying to control herself and fight back her emotions. The doctor waited on her, but she did not keep him waiting long. It was with a sudden clarity and control that she mustered her words, and she spoke them almost emotionlessly.

"Let me see her, please."

They did, and three minutes later she was in a sterile room, led in by staff and informed of what to expect. The first thing she noticed was the smell—she did not know what it was, but it would remain with her always—and then the sound of the machinery, whirring away with its artificial prolongation of a declining life. Everything was white, pure to the point that it glowed, and it was in this deceptive realm of purity that she saw what the impure world had done. Coral Short lay in bed, with so many wires and tubes attached to her that she seemed to be more of that than anything, and Holly approached eagerly and yet with great fear. But then she saw her face, her auburn hair, her startling blue eyes; she stared at them, frozen by the familiar and beloved sight amidst all of the unfamiliar and horrific changes, like seeing a captivating flower rising through ashes and bones.

"Mother…Coral…" Holly said softly. She could barely articulate the words, so overwhelmed was she by what she saw. Up close, unlike before, she could see the extent of Coral's condition. She looked hundreds of years older, withered and fragile, as if a breeze would turn her to dust. Her skin was pale and breaking, peeling off and oozing fluid, and the extent of her auburn hair was only a few patches where there had once been vibrant fullness; beauty and fairness torn away, not by time but by radiation. Her eyes, opened slightly and staring at nothing, were red and unfocused, and blood still trickled from her nose, her ears, her mouth, and even those inflamed eyes. It shook Holly to the core, and burned into her memory forever, and for a long moment she just stood there, staring whilst the doctor spoke over her shoulder. Despite all of their efforts, the specialists had only been able to slow the progress of the radiation poisoning. Apparently Coral had been exposed to too much high-level radiation, and had not received preliminary treatment soon enough. It was too late for her. She was dying.

 _Dying…_ Holly stood there, dumbstruck, for what felt like an eternity. It was incomprehensible, the thought of her mother dying, and yet there it was before her, in the flesh, in the blood, in the slow rising and falling of the chest and the whirr of the machines. _Dying…_ Holly felt like she too was fading away, as her strength failed her, and her very heart seemed like it was ready to burst. She could not do it anymore, she could not hold on to anything amidst the waters of her despair. What little fortification there was within her broke at that moment, along with all hope, falling apart and scattering in the winds of sorrow like dead leafs, cast away and lost forever. It was then that Holly Short truly lost herself, lost it all, and simply shattered like glass.

Falling to her knees, she let out a pathetic cry and wept, more than she had ever wept in her entire life. Her hands, shaky and weak, rested on Coral's right arm as if to hold her back from the abyss of death, and as she knelt at her side, she remembered the last time they had spoken, the promise they had shared and the love that had been assured. It was only yesterday that Coral had been strong and well, and yet in such a short time she was like this, broken and fading away. It was surreal, maddening, for Holly to realize this, and it served to amplify her terror, her sadness, and her utter disbelief. _This cannot be real, it cannot be real!_ But it was, and she knew it too despite her refusal to accept it. Even the fool who thought a ship unsinkable could not ignore the water rising at his feet, nor the doom waiting below; he could only clutch to halfhearted ignorance, dreaming wide awake. Holly held on to this pointless resistance for but a moment, before sliding down an Avernus of complete hopelessness and depression. All the while the doctor and his staff stood by, watching tragedy unfold. Soon they left, leaving Holly alone in her sorrows, if not only to give her privacy. She felt so alone, even though her mother was right there.

"Mother," Holly sobbed, holding her arm and looking into her sightless eyes. "Please, tell me you're there." How desperately she wanted Coral to see her, to recognize her, and to speak to her. It was the most powerful desire she had ever felt in her life, for how precious it would be, that final contact, that irreplaceable moment. She held her mother, gently, and spoke to her with her broken voice. "I am here mother. I will not leave you, not this time. I am here…Right here…"

For the longest and most painful moment there was nothing—nothing but Coral's shallow breathing and the sound of machines—but then it came, subtly and yet with a startling power. Holly felt her mother's hand move, ever so slightly, so that it could rest on hers. And her reddened eyes, gaining focus, locked on hers with evident recognition. Holly stared back, tears running down her face, and smiled as best she could. "Mom…"

Coral's eyes widened a little, and her face, despite being ruined, betrayed the deep feelings of a parent beholding her greatest joy. "Holly…"

It was a whisper, barely audible, but for Holly it may as well have been a roar. Coral's voice, despite being dry and weary, was still the voice of her mother, unmistakable and wonderful. They stared into each other's eyes, exchanging more in that simple act than words could ever accomplish, but soon Coral's expression wavered as her tired mind began to put together everything. She spoke slowly, and with a sorrow that matched Holly's own.

"I am sorry, Holly, I truly am…"

"Don't apologize," Holly said softly, still smiling through her sadness. She held on to Coral's hand, tenderly and with care. "I could never hold anything against you, not when you were always everything I wanted to be."

Coral smiled upon hearing those words, and that smile, despite her state, was beautiful and uplifting. "Thank…you…"

"Don't mention it," Holly said, holding back a sob.

They remained together like that for an hour, holding hands in silence. Coral could not speak very much, and she drifted in and out of consciousness at random, and every time she did Holly wondered if she would not open her eyes again. It was a cruel thing, knowing that someone you loved was fading away and yet not knowing when they would make that final journey into death's embrace. It was torture, just like everything else had been, and it hurt Holly so much.

She remained there by her side day by day, never leaving but for the necessities, and she never regretted it. There was no time that was worth more than this, no moments that were better spent. This was priceless, more precious than all of the riches in the world, and Holly would give anything, everything, for even a little more time. But it was set in stone, irreversible, the days going by along with the life of her mother, who had no more than a week to live. And it was terrible, utterly horrific, how she deteriorated over those days. Between hours, even minutes, it was noticeable. She would leave to go to the bathroom, and when she returned a few minutes later she would see a few more lines on Coral's face, a few more hairs gone from her head, and a little more life gone from her blue eyes. It broke her already shattered heart, and it took all of her strength to remain strong for her mother. It took everything, and still demanded more.

Four days passed. The hospital staff, having further affirmed that no amount of magic or technology could save Coral's life, had ensured that Coral was placed in a comfortable room and was given medicine to reduce the pain. It was all they could do to make her final moments painless, so that she could spend them with Holly. And Holly waited all those four days, eating rarely and sleeping little, afflicted by sorrow and still clinging onto the final moments with heart wrenching determination. She did not go to work, she refused to leave Coral's side, and no amount of threats or colorful language could persuade her of otherwise. She did not know at the time, but in spite of that flagrant refusal her commanders, on word from LEPmarine and Captain Endgrove, had given her temporary leave in order to remain where she was—a little more heart in the apparently heartless system of rigid command. And so she sat there, always by Coral's side, always there for her in her darkest hour, in her fleeting last chapter of life.

It was on that fourth day that Holly found herself sitting in her usual spot, holding her mother's hand and speaking softly to her, even though she could not hear her. The room provided a wonderful view of the gardens, and with Haven's artificial breeze the cool air gently blew through the open windows and caressed them both with the scent of flowers. Coral would have loved the view, and most certainly the smell, and it was Holly's sincere wish that she could still perceive those things.

"It's so beautiful, mom," she whispered. "The flowers are all in bloom, and the breeze is perfect…" She looked out into that vibrant place, seeing all the life and feeling the contrast with the death that was before her. Yet all flowers spoiled too, many without blooming at all—perhaps a life well lived was all one could hope for. Holly stared until her mother's irregular breathing snapped her out of it, and then she resumed her gentle speaking. She would talk about work, about her friends and adventures, but more than anything she would talk about the times she and Coral had had together. She remembered aloud the days when her father had been alive, and all the things they had done as a family, together in happiness. She remembered all of the silly thing she had done as a child, all of times she had gotten in trouble and all the moments when Coral had been there to discipline her. She remembered when she had been sad, afraid, or hurt, and how Coral had been there to comfort her; she had always been there, all those years ago. And it was with such wondrous clarity that Holly could recall the things that she had otherwise been unable to contrive in her mind's eye. For the longest time she had been unable to remember her seventh birthday, when they had taken a trip to the surface to see the great oak trees and smell the spring air. She recalled Coral giving her an acorn to keep for herself, on that warm sunny day, and how she had planted it in the family garden. She could see so many things that had been lost to time, so many memories that had faded and lost their touch, and they came to her one by one, as if they had happened only yesterday. Tears filled her eyes as this happened, and they overflowed in moments, spilling down her face. Only now, when she was holding her dying mother's hand, did she remember those things.

It made her sob, but she kept her cry at bay and instead squeezed Coral's hand a little tighter. This time she thought she felt Coral squeeze back, and it saddened her all the more. Why did this have to happen to her? Why did Coral have to die like this? She did not deserve it, she never did, and yet her life had been ruined, destroyed beyond repair, by humans who would never know or understand what they had done. It filled Holly with confusion, and then grew into frustration. That frustration mutated into anger, and then, like water boiling over the edge of a pot, it became hatred. It burned through her so suddenly, so powerfully, that she was swept away by its dark allure. Her sad face contorted into a look of pure malice, and her eyes, though spilling endless tears, became the very image of spite. She stared at her mother, at her broken form, and felt her fury bubble over. It was so easy to hate, and Holly had every reason to.

"I will make them pay," she said, vowing at that moment to get revenge. "I will hunt down every last one of those Mud Men!"

So overcome was she by hatred that she lost sight of Coral, but an instant later she felt her hand on hers, squeezing stronger than it ever had before. She looked down again, caught off guard, and saw her mother looking up at her with an expression that was firm and filled with passion. Her eyes, those brilliant blue eyes, burned into her and left her silent and still, and that was when Coral spoke with astonishing force.

"No, Holly. I spent my career saving creatures. You must do the same." She squeezed tighter, but her features softened into a beseeching look. "Destruction cannot be my legacy."

Holly felt all of her violent fervor melt away, and it was replaced by shame—crushing, unrelenting shame. Looking into Coral's eyes, she saw the pain as well—the pain of a mother fearing that her child would do something terrible in her name. "I'm sorry," she stammered, nearly breathless and overcome with self-loathing, "I'm just…so angry…How can I forgive them for doing this to you?"

Coral held her gaze, but this time she spoke gently. "Forgiveness, not hatred, is what will save this world. We cannot hate as they do, nor seek reprisal as they do, it will only destroy us and all that we've worked towards." She paused, taking a few breaths to regain some of her strength. "We must remain true to ourselves, Holly, no matter what. Do not fall victim to what preys on the humans so easily. Do not lose yourself." Once again her failing body forced her to pause, and once again she began anew, shakily but with fierce determination. "Please, Holly, carry on what I have worked for all my life. Protect it, for me…"

Holly nodded as tears flowed from her eyes, battling her hatred so that she could fulfill her mother's wish. She put both hands on her mothers'. "I will…I promise…" She had almost no faith in herself, so low was her spirit, but Coral seemed to see her for who she was, and had more confidence in her than she could ever muster. Holly then realized that Coral was trying to reach up to her, and so she knelt close and helped raise her right arm so that it touched her tearstained cheek. Coral smiled.

"I am proud of you Holly. Never forget that."

Holly smiled in return, even as her heart continued to break more and more. "I will always remember."

"And don't forget, that I…"

Holly waited on her mother's words, and when they did not come she spoke worriedly. "Mom?" She did not get a response this time. Coral had slipped back into unconsciousness, closing her eyes and going limp. Holly could still see the rising and falling of her chest, and the machines still displayed a steady heartbeat—she was still fighting strong, even as death's shadow hung over her. How proud Holly was of her too. How immensely proud! Coral deserved all of her admiration, all of her faith, and so much more. How sad that such intangible sentiments were all she had left to offer.

Two more days went by before she knew it, and nothing happened during them but the steady decline of Coral's health—its declivity was steep, relentless, and terrifying. She did not wake, so intense was her battle with death, but Holly would watch her face all the same, noting every change and every slight flicker of emotion. It was all she could do now, and she was so filled with pain and sorrow that she actually felt barely anything. She was exhausted in every way, worn out and torn apart, and like a hollowed-out creature she sat motionless by her mother's side, looking as afflicted as her. The doctors would come in, do their checks, and leave silently; everything else was taken care of by the machines attached to Coral's body. Holly hated the machines, hated how they looked and sounded, but she found that even hate could not find purchase in her heart, not with it so riddled with holes. Instead she felt little but the depthless pit of despair that was in her chest, which every now and then rose like a tide and reduced her to tears and pitiful sobs. She did not know how she had any more tears left to shed, they seemed endless. But no matter how broken she was, she never stopped loving, and never ceased to remain loyal to her mother to the very end.

"I never really thanked you enough for the omnitool you gave me," she said abruptly, feeling the weight of the tool on her belt—so light and yet so oddly heavy to her now. She took it from its holster with a slowness that bespoke her care for it, and then she held it in both hands, eyeing the silver lettering that Coral had lovingly inscribed. "It has yet to let me down, mother. I don't think it ever will. It is the best present I have ever received." She smiled a little, still looking over the device. "You sure know what to get for a crazy fool like me…"

Coral stirred a little in her bed, but said nothing. Perhaps she could hear what was being said, just too weak to respond. Holly didn't know, but she put her hand on her mother's shoulder and spoke close to her ear, wishing for it to be true. "Thank you. For everything." She put her arms around Coral, gently, and held her close for what could very well be the last time. "Thank you so much!" She held her for a long time, afraid to let go. She did not want to let go, not ever, so great was her love and her fear combined. If only her strength was enough to keep Coral from passing; if only her embrace was stronger than the cold embrace of Death. But she was weak, a mere mortal contending against the very workings of the stars; her efforts were doomed to fail, as had all of her hopes and dreams. Into the inferno it all fell, powerless. She had never been sorrier in her entire life than at this moment, when she could do nothing at all even when every fiber of her being screamed for the opposite. Cruel fate, fickle time, and deceptive fortune all played against her, but perhaps not everything was a loss. Perhaps there was some little triumph in all of this, even though she could not see it.

She laid Coral back down upon the soft cushions of the bed, and then she wiped her own eyes of the tears that were blinding her. When she saw clearly she could see Coral's face, and upon it there was the slightest smile, the very smallest of expressions of perfect contentment. And there were tears, mingling with blood, rolling down her pale cheeks, glittering in the light and leaving glistening streaks. As distant was she was from the world, as caught up in her struggle with death as she was, she had not failed to hear and feel what mattered to her most, and neither had she failed to show a final display of gratitude. Her lips moved, and they mouthed words that Holly would never forget. Then she lay still, with a smile on her face, and breathed no more.

Holly watched as Coral's chest ceased moving, as her final breath departed her, and as the machines all indicated a static heart. She stared, eyes wide and mouth parted to say something that never got out in time, and it was only a few seconds later that her stricken mind made the terrible calculation. It set in stone the reality before her, carving it into her heart and soul as letters in obsidian. The machines beeped and beeped, urgent as if Coral could still be saved, but the truth was that she was gone, forever. Holly did not hear them anymore, nor did she hear the sound of the doctors and nurses entering the room. She perceived nothing but her precious mother, lying still with a beautiful smile gracing her otherwise obliterated features. Her blue eyes were still open, staring upwards as if into the heavens to which she had fled, towards her spirit's refuge, her final place of peace and rest. Holly struggled to her feet, shuffled until she loomed over Coral, and gazed into those eyes. They were lifeless, bereft of the spark that Coral had so brilliantly displayed, but they were still her eyes, and they tugged at Holly's heart.

"Goodbye, mother," she whispered softly, with tears flowing and a lump rising in her throat. "Goodbye…Coral…" Her whole body was trembling, as was her very soul, but when she raised her right hand to Coral's face she found herself steady, as if a sympathetic strength had risen to aid her. With that steadied hand, she closed the wonderful blue eyes forever, shutting the gate on their distant gaze and laying them to their final rest. When it was done, Holly remained where she stood, frozen by what she felt and held there, captivated, by the sight of her mother's still form. Only when they draped a white cloth over her face did she find the presence of mind to move back, but even then she simply stared, hollow and uncertain as the body was taken away. Truly, something within her had just died alongside Coral. A part of her, an irreplaceable and fundamental piece of her being, had flown away, and it would never return. She would never be whole again.

Soon Holly was alone in the room apart from a single nurse who waited patiently at the exit. She stood for a few more moments, trembling slightly, and then unknowingly slumped back down onto her chair, still gazing into oblivion, confused and so horribly sick. It was as if she had been torn from herself and cast into oblivion, her heart inundated with a sea of all-consuming nothingness and her whole world enveloped by an impenetrable darkness. And yet, in spite of it all, the only image in her mind's eye was the smile that Coral, even in death, had left her with. It was burned into her mind, seared by fire, and she did not know how to feel about it. She did not know how to feel at all.


	5. Lost

**Haven, Memorial Grounds**

The day was beautiful, a wondrous display of all that nature so freely gave, bereft of darkness and so filled with the delicate splendor of existence. Most of it was artificial, a product of Haven's impressive technology, but it was so convincing that most could close their eyes and, in a moment of willful ignorance, believe that they were standing in the fields of Ireland, surrounded by verdant hills and glittering streams. The sun blazed in a cloudless sky, its rings of gold set upon a canvas of soft blue, and though it was a contrivance of science it still touched all those below it with warm, gentle rays. It touched the flowers, the trees, and the meadows that enveloped many designated locations in Haven, and a breeze made them sway together in a natural companionship. There were birds too, along with other creatures, all living in their artificial environment, and they sang. Truly, despite being beneath miles of stone, this was a heaven amidst a harsh reality, a little island amidst a sea of troubles.

Yet even with all of the beauty, all of the life, it was a cheerless day; the sun fell on troubled hearts, the wind brushed against fragile countenances, and the birdsong met deaf ears, all powerless against the pall of sorrow and brokenness that hung in the air. Not even the surface itself, with all of its authentic wonders, could have mended this. Nothing could, not for the elf that stood amidst all of it with a feeling of complete emptiness and regret tearing her apart.

Corporal Holly Short had arrived at the recycling grounds hours early for the ceremony, and she had waited there, silently, for her mother to arrive. With her green dress uniform buttoned up to her chin, and all of her gear polished and ordered, she looked resplendent and disciplined, the very image of a professional officer. But the look on her face, and the glimmer in her reddened hazel eyes, made it clear that behind that veneer of strength and certitude was a shattered creature, hopeless and beyond the shores of respite from her demons. She was tormented as she waited, by thoughts and memories alike, and no matter how much they assaulted her she never got used to them, never once feeling any respite from their pain, their bitterness, and their ruthless melancholy. Alone, in this despair, she waited.

An hour later her mother arrived in an ornate shuttle, handled by superbly-dressed officers who treated her with the utmost solemnity and care. They unloaded the brilliant white casket that held her with slow, purposeful steps, and with the same air of mourning they carried her towards where she would be laid to rest. It was on the top of the garden's hill, by the discrete recycling reservoir, that they took her casket, and it was there, in the tranquility of the swaying grass and singing birds, that Holly set her eyes on her mother for the last time. There she lay, dressed in her finest uniform and bearing the rank insignia of a lieutenant colonel, her posthumously bestowed rank. She was so beautiful, her face almost as radiant as it had been in life, and despite its pale color it seemed alive, as if she would awaken at any moment from a deep sleep. Her hair too was as it had once been, full and vibrant in its auburn hues and so wonderfully receptive of the rays of artificial daylight; it almost glowed, and it was so very stunning. Positioned with her hands on her chest, fingers intertwined, she looked like a maiden from an old tale, her power and regality evident even in death, and with her appearance so meticulously cared for it was no wonder. But she was no maiden, she was no legend, and she was certainly not a figure of divine power. She was a doctor, an officer, a widowed wife, and a caring mother, killed in the line of duty.

Holly gazed upon this odd sight with hard eyes and pursed lips, looking to all as if she were strong enough to not betray emotions. She saw the hair, the face, the details, and knew that they were all fake. She had seen Coral in her final moments, and in the moments thereafter, and she had looked nothing like this. No attempts to make her look herself again would change what Holly had seen, and despite being before a better view now, she would always remember what her mother had looked like—the decay, the blood, the death. Nevertheless, she stood over her still form, ignorant of the beauty around her, captivated by the sight to the point that she did not notice that the rest of the attendees were arriving.

All of LEPmarine's top brass attended, along with over a third of the force. Of course, some of them were only there for appearance's sake, contriving to play the part so as to advance their own agendas. But so many more were genuine in their grief, Holly could tell just by looking. It was astonishing how many people had loved Coral—how many lives she had touched—even though from Holly's perspective she had always been a distant and lonely mother. In the end, this was all one had—not wealth, not power, not fame, but deeds, memories, and more than anything, a place in the hearts of others. Coral was in many hearts, loved and admired, and Holly was not surprised that she did not recognize the majority of those present. They were all people from Coral's life, not hers, and despite their mutual purpose for being there Holly could not help but feel disconnected from everyone else. She would have felt alone, even among so many, had one of her few friends not attended. This was her best friend, Foaly. Dressed impeccably for the occasion, the centaur had put everything aside to attend, and even hours before he had remained close to her, concerned and very aware of her shattering loneliness. He knew to give her enough space to grieve, but all the same he kept within reach, silently supporting her in her time of need. Holly was grateful for this, more than she could ever express.

Many others, mostly complete strangers, approached her with their condolences, to which she would only nod—she didn't bother faking a smile. Among those people was Coral's old friend, Captain Arion Endgrove, and though he did not say much it was evident how devastated he was. He had spent time with Coral during her initial treatment in Atlantis, and back then he had still believed, desperately, that she would make it. So shattered was he by the tragedy that he could barely speak. In the end he could not finish, but instead looked at the still elf in the casket with an expression of terrible sorrow. That was all Holly could do as well, standing and staring, hollow and reticent.

Through the whole ceremony she remained that way, stone-faced and so completely still. And all the while her omnitool sat in its holster on her belt, her mother's silver lettering gleaming in the sunlight. She stood at the forefront of the congregation, only two meters from Coral, and from there she listened to all of the meaningless speeches and remarks, the words more a source of vexation than closure. Still, they did not provoke her, for she was far too focused on her mother—on her face, and the faint smile that was still there.

Coral's two colleagues, Corporals Riagán Trus and Vera Leofflaed, were among those at the front with her. Besides Holly, and secondly Arion, no one displayed more sorrow than them. Coral had saved their lives, and in losing her they had lost an exemplary captain, an extraordinary colleague, and an irreplaceable friend. Both of them were still showing signs of their injuries, which had included light exposure to radiation, but unlike Coral they would make a full recovery and, by her sacrifice, live their lives as she had hoped. Holly could see just by noticing their presence how much Coral had been capable of—how strong, how courageous, and how selfless she had been in life. There was no greater praise that could be offered, not greater commendation of character. To Holly, no one in the world would ever match what her mother had displayed, not in a billion years, not even when time itself was no more.

The ceremony went by like a dream, surreal despite being so entrenched in reality, and when it finally came time for Holly to close the casket herself—for it was a tradition—she almost had not enough strength to take the few steps towards it. This little path seemed infinite, and each step rattled her heart, taking more energy from her than a marathon. When she stood before the casket, and over Coral's still form, she felt all of her sorrow and fear converge upon her, awash in the lake of her heart. This was the last time she would see her, the last time she could speak to her in person, even though she was speaking to a lifeless body. Standing there, racked by despair, Holly knew that she had to say something, anything, before she set into motion the last stage of the ceremony. But at that critical moment, when those words mattered the most, she did not know what to say—her whole world dropped out beneath her, like a trapdoor, leaving her stranded in an icy wasteland of uncertainty. What could she say that would do Coral justice? What words could convey her heart's intent? Nothing could. Not even the world's greatest poets could contrive a sentence that would speak true the color of Holly's innermost feelings. Being so intimate, so entrenched, and so very precious, they were impossible for mere language to convey. And so Holly stood where she was, silent before a thousand onlookers, trembling despite her best efforts.

 _This is it, Holly,_ a voice said in her head, soft and gentle, caring in its intonation. _It is time to let her go._

Holly did not want to let go. She clung senselessly to that which was no more, desperate and lost, knowing that when she let go she would truly be alone, for the rest of her life. Her mother—her precious mother—would be gone forever, leaving her without family, without that familiar love, doomed to be the last of her kin. To be so alone was a terrible thing, and to be without Coral, the most important person in her life, was unthinkable. But that was what it was, and there was no changing it. Coral would want her to accept it, for the alternative was self-destruction. She had to do it, no matter how much her heart screamed for her not to; no matter how high the ramparts of terror that encircled her heart.

Holding back sobs, and feeling tears beginning to form in her eyes, Holly put her hand on the lid of the casket. But before she closed it she reached into her pocket and retrieved two faded photographs, both of which had been Coral's not too long ago. She had been given them only hours before, and they were still stained by the blood and the tears of her mother; still bearing the signs of that struggle she had been through. Holly looked at them, at the smiling faces and the happiness they bespoke, and then laid them, with a trembling hand, over Coral's lifeless heart. Now she would not be alone in her oppressive casket, just as she had not been alone in her hour of darkness aboard the fated _Sirona_. Holly hoped that the memories, and the joy, that those images invoked would follow Coral wherever she had gone. May they always be with her, until they met again.

"Thank you…and goodbye…" Holly whispered, gazing at Coral and focusing on her warming smile. Then, with great reluctance, she pried herself away from the sight of her beloved mother, and pulled the ornate lid over the casket. It felt so heavy, even though it was light, and when it was firmly in place Holly could not help but feel as if she had done something terrible. She stepped back, unsure of herself, and then waited in dread.

With the casket sealed, and all of the rites done, it came time to lower it into the reservoir, where it would be broken down and recycled for the betterment of nature. Holly watched, with her heart in her throat, as it was lifted and lowered, so very slowly, into that fateful pit. She felt like falling down and crying, but just like her mother she had been born with a strength that came in moments like this, and it came to her then. She knew that this was it, and she knew that this was her last chance to show her mother just how much she loved her, and how alike they both her. With a firm expression and a steadied hand, Holly snapped the most perfect salute of her life, saluting the great elf that was being lowered into oblivion, and thereby bidding a proper farewell to the heroic officer that she had been. Holly could feel her heart going down with her, sinking and sinking as if there was no bottom to her despair; depthless, without limit, was the brokenness of her heart. And yet in spite of this she stood firm, trying to hide her emotions behind a stone-faced expression. She could not, not for the life of her. The expression was doomed to quiver the entire time, wavering like a feeble tree in a gale, and even though she held on by a thread her eyes showed the truth. One could make a good face, but the eyes would always be the window into the heart, and they showed Holly's with flawless accuracy.

And so, Coral made her final journey slowly, gracefully, into total undoing, with each second bringing her an inch lower into the basin that would eliminate every last trace of her physical being. Holly watched, her saluting hand trembling and her lip quivering ever so slightly. She watched without blinking, even as tears threatened to blur her vision, seeing nothing in the world but the casket, its beautiful white surface gleaming as it disappeared into the opaque, greenish fluid, as if it alone caught all of the light in the world. She watched Coral to the very last moment, and even after her casket had disappeared beneath the impenetrable surface, Holly kept staring, as if her mother were there before her, smiling the unforgettable smile that even death had not vanquished.

Minutes passed, and she remained silent and still, petrified by the deep chasm that she felt within her. The others stirred and began to leave, going as noiselessly and respectfully as possible, leaving Holly almost alone on the hill—and she felt so terribly alone, more than she had ever felt in her entire life. It was as if the rug of life had been pulled out from beneath her feet, leaving her sprawled upon a cold, featureless surface, dazed and alone. She did not know what to do now, she was so utterly lost. All that called to her was down there, hidden, and she could never have it, not while she still lived. It was so horrendously unfair.

Meanwhile the air, warm and fresh, whirled around her during that lonely moment, bringing with it the scent of the flowers and a few wayward petals, the latter colored in shades of purple, blue, and white. A few of them settled upon the surface of the recycling reservoir, but they too sank, pulled down to join Coral. Perhaps she'd like that; she always did like flowers, especially of that color. Even this musing, as innocuous as it was, made Holly's expression deteriorate into a look of pure sadness, and this time she sobbed, unable to keep it back any longer. All it took was the little things, the little straws, to break her now.

As her grief took her completely, she heard footfalls to her right, and a moment later she heard Foaly's voice, gentle and so full of concern, speak to her. "I am so sorry, Holly. You do not deserve this, and neither did she…So much happens in life that seems unjust…It just isn't right…"

Holly could only nod, lest in speaking she inadvertently break down into a fit of cries.

"Just remember," Foaly said softly, "that you are not alone. Do not let the darkness distract you from the light. It is always there."

They were true words, similar to what Coral would have said, and though she was shattered by grief Holly took them to heart, for the moment at least, in a feeble effort to keep herself from slipping away completely. She was grasping at straws, but like a muddy hillside, her feet found no purchase to save her; the ground yielded beneath her, and down she fell, head over heels, into torment. Her sorrow would not yield, nor would the emptiness that had risen within her. Like rivets driven into solid rock, they her fastened to her heart, piercing and cold. With a chill coming over her, Holly mustered all the strength she could, and took a deep breath. She looked into the reservoir one last time—into a world and a life now beyond her reach—and then turned her back on it, leaving Coral, and all of the light she had put into her life, behind forever.

* * *

The day passed, moving into night, and for Holly it was barely noticeable. Everything happened so fast, and through her brokenness she perceived everything in a daze. It was exhausting, mentally and physically, and despite all of the challenges and ridiculous days Holly had experienced in the past, this was the one that would prove to be the most draining of her entire life. No amount of police work—gunfights, chases, explosions, and traffic detail included—could have made her feel so empty, so bereft of what had filled her only a day ago. In a matter of hours she was completely changed, different in subtle ways that were internally profound, and no matter how strong she was she could not shake it, not for the life of her. This torment, this wretched feeling, clung to her like dampness in a cave, pervasive and unstoppable. All she could do was feel its touch and feel her very spirit shiver.

There was so much that needed doing, especially with regard to her mother's estate, but Holly had avoided it with overt desperation, utterly disdainful of the very idea of it. She knew that it would have to be done eventually though, whenever she had the strength to do so. In the end, as per the will, all of Coral's possessions now fell to Holly, though ultimately Coral did not leave much behind. She had been so married to her work that she had not pursued much in terms of material wealth. Holly didn't care at all about this, it was all meaningless; never had she thought about gaining in a time like this, for truly that would be heartless beyond compare. The promise of receiving death gratuity and other compensation from LEPmarine didn't matter either, even though Holly was quite poor. It could have been all of the gold under the earth for all she cared, and it still would not make a difference. She would sooner throw it all into the ocean, but in the end she would accept it with regret and a sickness in her chest. It felt wrong, all of it. Death was so full of business and paperwork, and it sickened her. This, along with a thousand other things, served as bricks in the wall of despair and insecurity that was being built up within her heart.

It was almost midnight when Holly found herself back at her apartment. Foaly had taken her there, and despite how grateful she was for his company over the horrible day she had declined his offer to stay. She needed to be alone—and yet the entire day there had been a terrible sense of loneliness in her heart. Upon saying goodbye to Foaly and entering her apartment, Holly closed the door with a painful amount of hesitation; part of her wanted to be out there, far away from everything, where her demons could not pursue her. In the gloom of the cramped apartment she stood, still for a few minutes, and then, with a pitiful sigh, she walked dejectedly towards the main room.

The air was warm and stale, but she did not notice, nor did she care about the mess. With an air of mournful listlessness, Holly slumped down on her couch and stared, with haunted eyes, at the featureless wall. She was tired, so very tired, but she could not bring herself to rest. Instead she sat there until she remembered the sealed case she had carried in with her, which snapped her out of her lethargy. With painstaking care she put the case on her lap, and upon unlocking it she opened its lid slowly, as if it were made of fragile glass. What was within made her eyes glimmer with tears, and her heart shiver in a winter of depression.

The LEP had awarded Lieutenant Colonel Coral Short with two posthumous decorations, and in her absence they had given them to Holly, her next of kin. Chief Torin Carnunnos, the commander of LEPmarine, had presented them to her in person, at a simple but well organized ceremony, thankfully with no media present. Holly had felt sick at the time, but she had nonetheless presented herself with the utmost professionalism, doing everything by the book. When she had held them for the first time, and felt their weight in her hands—a weight that was anything but physical—she had remained steadfast and admirable. Little did they know that she had been on the verge of falling apart. Now she held them in her hands, where they glinted in the feeble light of her apartment: The Order of the People, and the King Frond Medal of Valor with Oak Leafs, Swords, and Diamonds. Both of them were in medal frames—as posthumous honors generally were—gold-plated with oak leafs and inscribed in gnomish. She eyed them gloomily, holding them almost awkwardly, feeling wrong. She dared not touch the medals themselves, and they would always remain sealed in their frames, locked away. Only Coral, their rightful owner, had the right to touch them. Holly stared with an empty gaze, her hazel eyes filled with weariness, and as she regarded them she remembered the words of Coral's commander.

"Your mother's actions of singular daring and devotion were in keeping with the highest traditions of LEP service, reflecting the very image of heroism and selflessness in the line of duty. For her bravery in the face of impossible odds, we award Lieutenant Colonel Coral Short with our highest honors, the Order of the People and the King Frond Medal of Valor." At that moment he had extended the two framed medals to her, and she had accepted them with anguish behind her steely countenance. The Commander had then nodded understandingly, and spoke on a more personal level. "I am sorry for you loss, Miss Short. I truly am. The LEP has lost one of its best." How much more was the loss she herself had suffered.

Now, after it was all said and done, she sat motionless on an uncomfortable couch, holding the two frames before her as if they were the only things that anchored her to the world. For a long time she sat there, thinking nothing but feeling so much—too much—of the emotions roiling within her. Eventually she regained her thoughts, which inevitably drifted towards those medals and the wonderful elf who had earned them. Would Coral have liked such fame and recognition? Probably not, to be honest; neither were important to her in that they did nothing to help the world. But at the same time Holly wondered if she would ever earn such extraordinary decorations herself—if she would ever live up to Coral's heroism, her legacy. Fame mattered not, but she wanted to make Coral proud in every way she could, and to follow in her footsteps was the only path that she wanted to take. She yearned to use her potential, every last drop of it, like her mother had done right up the very end of her life. This was now her greatest desire, set before her like a mountain whose summit bore her destination.

This sudden flourishing of resolve took her along another tangent of thought, one that made her mother's words ring in her head, as if spoken in her ear. _"I spent my career saving creatures. You must do the same…Destruction cannot be my legacy."_ She remembered those words, and more so the might with which Coral had uttered them. They cut through her numbness, reminding her of what Coral had fought for, and what she had given her life for. They were some of the last words Coral had spoken to her, and she could envision her mother's expression then, the feebleness of her body clashing with the fierceness of her countenance and the unquenchable fire in her blue eyes. _"Please, Holly, carry on what I have worked for all my life. Protect it, for me…"_

Still looking at the framed medals in her hands, Holly began to think clearly for the first time since Coral's death. Though she was still racked by pain and sorrow, and tired beyond anything she had ever experienced, she pursued her innermost desire, flushing it out and unveiling it from the concealing depths of her stricken mind. It was a desperate search, for so desperately did she need direction, a purpose, to keep her from sliding down into a pit of hopelessness. She knew that if she did not pursue her heart's desire, she would perish in sorrow and regret.

Holly searched and searched, the glinting of Coral's medals lighting up her gloomy world; her grip upon them was strong, and her hands did not shake as they had throughout the day. Then, with a suddenness that surprised her, an idea shot forth into the forefront of her consciousness, and truly it was the one she had been searching for. It came to her naturally now, blossoming from a notion into an intention, becoming vivid and achievable. With Coral's heroism in her hands, and her legacy in her heart, Holly made the most important decision of her life. On that night, only a day after her mother's traumatic death, Corporal Holly Short decided to apply to the LEP's recon division.


	6. The First Step

_The darkness was beyond comprehension, so thick and so suffocating that all the light in the world seemed to have been swallowed whole and obliterated. A terrible stench filled the air, and the sound of groaning metal and dripping water rose and fell at random, splitting the darkness with their ominous din and making peace of mind all but impossible. It was in this hell that Holly found herself, trapped in a pilot's chair and pressed by her invisible surroundings. She looked around desperately, finding nothing for her eyes to see, and as she did so she felt her whole body begin to ache. It was maddening, and she had no idea what was happening. Where was she? Why was she here? What was happening to her?! No answers graced her desperate questions, and as she sat trapped where she was, she felt the darkness around her press in even more. It was oppressive, crushing, and it got worse and worse with each passing second. It was a gradual, horrific demise, certain and yet drawn out like the very process of mortality.  
_

" _I have to get out of here! I have to get out of here!" This kept repeating in her head, spurring her frenzied action, but it was useless. Her efforts to move were stopped by invisible restraints, and her very breaths were challenged by the polluted, stale air, as if it were a malicious force determined to deprive her lungs of oxygen. Water dripped on her from above—frigid, arctic water—and the pain that was growing inside of her was unquestionable in its source. It was at that moment that she realized she was trapped in a metal grave, a sunken vessel, at the bottom of an irradiated sea—just like her mother had been. This filled her with an even greater terror, and she started struggling with all of her waning might, growling and screaming like an animal, adrenaline rushing through her veins like liquid fire. But her efforts, however driven by fear and madness alike, were hopeless. She was trapped, and she could feel the walls closing in around her, pushing inwards by the pressure of the sea and springing leaks that showered her with frigid poison._

" _No, not this, not this! Please, someone help me!" Her breathing became frantic, her eyes wide and filled with terror, and her mind, so awash with fear, became a whirlwind of madness. The groan and roar of twisting metal boomed in her ears, and the pain, so horrendous by that point, made her gag and vomit. She broke down as she did this, tears streaming from her eyes and sobs escaping between her sickening heaves, and afterwards she sagged back, mentally broken, and cried like a child. She had never known so much pain, so much horror, and so much helplessness. It was as if she had been thrown into the deepest pit of hell, past all the other rings of torment, to be afflicted by nightmares that only the devil himself could concoct for her haunted soul. There was no darker place, nor any stronger terror, than this mephistophelian inferno. It broke her a billion times over, somehow smashing her ruins into even smaller pieces, and it kept going, as endless as the very decrees of the divine; in its merciless hands she suffered. Then, from the oppressive darkness, there came a soft green glow from a previously inactive screen, giving detail to her private hell. It revealed a destroyed command room, twisted and flooding, and at its front was a cracking window, beyond which loomed the endless darkness of the sea. The cracks expanded as the walls crumpled in, and in her terror Holly wailed, driven into complete insanity. At that moment, with a scream of shattering glass and a roar of twisting metal, the entire place collapsed inwards, crushing Holly alive in water and steel._

* * *

Holly awakened with a sharp inhalation, shooting upwards into a sitting position and nearly falling out of her bed. Her heart was hammering in her chest like a drum, her pulse rapid and her body filled with adrenaline, and as she gasped for breath she stared with tearful, wide eyes, into the gloom of her oppressive apartment. She was overcome by terror and uncertainty, both having followed her from her nightmare, and it only got worse as her tired, stricken mind played malicious tricks on her. In the darkness everything seemed smaller, the walls closer and the very roof looming as if ready to crush her, and for Holly it was just like the nightmare—just like the terrible hell that her mother had been forced to go through, cramped in a metal shell on the bottom of the ocean, dying slowly but certainly. She stumbled out of her bed, desperate to escape this hell, and when she was halfway through her apartment she fell to her knees, suddenly unable to stand. She was trembling, and tears were blurring her vision, making the darkness seem even fiercer. On her hands and knees she stared at the floor, breathing heavily and thinking, with the utmost desperation, about what was happening.

 _This isn't real. It was just a dream! It isn't real!_ She told this to herself over and over, sinking in the fact that what she had seen was nothing more than a product of her psychological trauma. But it was hard—so horrendously difficult!—to shake the feeling of dread, sickness, and loneliness that had ambushed her in her sleep. It took her fifteen minutes to stop shaking, and another ten for her fear and confusion to subside to more tolerable levels. At this point she struggled into a sitting position, and leaned back against the wall, exhausted. Perspiration covered her body, dripping into her eyes from her brow and making her clothing stick to her like glue. In her mouth she could taste the odd and indescribable flavor of fear, and her reddened eyes, as they began to focus on the room around her, blinked rapidly as tears and sweat stung them. Only the soft blue glow of her holographic clock offset the darkness around her, and looking at it she realized that it was only three in the morning—she had gone to sleep not two hours ago. "D'arvit…" she rasped, working on controlling her breathing and regaining a sense of mental and physical equilibrium. Her training helped with this, but only after she had escaped the irrational terror of her nightmare.

A few minutes later she was sitting in the same spot, staring blankly at the clock with an expression that coupled anger and depression together. _It was only dream…_ Indeed, it had not been real. But a similar hell had been Coral's unfair plight, and that had been anything but a dream! Holly glared despite herself, filled with a sudden rage, but it soon subsided to be replaced by a feeling of hollowness. A flood of emotions had rushed through her, but now it was suddenly gone, having washed away everything from her heart, leaving her empty. For a long time she sat there, feeling as if her soul had fallen into an abyss; feeling like an empty vessel. But in this moment of terrible loneliness and unprecedented hollowness, familiar memories came to her, and they all had one thing in common. These memories, like seeds under the spring rain, took root and began to grow back the clarity of her tired mind. An inner fire came with them.

Alone in the shadows she stared into oblivion, again caught up in thought. But now, unlike before, it was not fear that fueled them, but a raw determination that had its roots in her very heart, deeper than even fear could go. She clenched her teeth and fists without knowing, and in the feeble light of the room her hazel eyes, no longer filled with tears, glinted with an unshakable purpose. She had not forgotten the oath she had made to herself the night before—it was at the forefront of her mind—and neither did she forget the goal she had set. To follow in her mother's footsteps, to join recon and protect the world, and to overall live a life that would make Coral prouder than she had already been, were her vivid aims, and her mind locked upon them with a fierce resolve. Despite all of her pain and stress, Holly thought clearly, and the medals placed on her table had something to do with it. Standing up, and not trembling at all, she walked over to them and regarded them with her thoughtful gaze. Then, without a word, she began to get ready for the day. It was early, but she could not go back to sleep, nor did she want to. She had work to do.

Holly started by taking a long, soothing shower, washing away the cold sweat and calming her nerves. Immediately thereafter she ate a lite meal, unenthusiastically shoveling it down whilst checking her LEP-issued datapad for news and reports. Then she dressed in her newly-cleaned uniform, buttoned it up to the chin and made every line and crease as close to perfection as possible, and then reached for her service belt, which was on the table beside Coral's medals. Holly began to put it on, but she stopped herself when she noticed her omnitool, still in its holster from the day before. A sad, bitter smile tugged at her mouth, and with a like expression she took the tool out and eyed the inscription, reading her name and remembering who had put it there.

"I will carry on your work," she said softly, an extraordinary depth of feeling in her words. "I will protect this world…I will save it..." She put on her belt, holstered her neutrino, and then looked at the omnitool one more time. With a faint whisper she spoke, tenderly. "I promise…" Then, with a suddenly firm, unyielding expression, she holstered the precious device and, after giving Coral's medals a final glance, strode towards the door. It was four-thirty in the morning when she stepped out into the street below her apartment. It was still dark, and most of the world around her was asleep; comfortable and content in their secure little realms. Holly checked her watch while looking out towards Haven's downtown core, which loomed in the distance with all of its bright lights. She knew exactly where she wanted to go, and even though it was a few miles away, she decided to walk.

 **Lower Elements Police Headquarters  
**

Even early in the morning the Lower Elements Police Headquarters was teeming with activity, as would any government agency that operated around the clock on a global scale. When Holly arrived on foot she was not surprised to see that many of the night shift police teams were returning to file their reports, while fresh officers were heading out to replace them for the day. This daily cycle was very familiar to Holly, who had been on both ends of it since the beginning of her career, but today, as she strode into the headquarters dressed like a patrol-ready officer, things were a little different. The truth was that she was not supposed to be there, given what had happened only a day ago. No one was expecting her to come into work, and yet there she was, resplendent in her uniform and carrying herself with an air of confidence that should have been impossible. Many of her colleagues simply stared upon seeing her, their faces contorted with disbelief, as if they were seeing a ghost. What sort of elf could go back to work only a day after her mother had passed? The baffled officers could not hide their astonishment. A number of them greeted her, and she acted cordially, behaving as if it were a normal day on the job—though today there was also a subtle difference in her countenance, one that bespoke a powerful change within her heart.

Walking quickly through the halls of the headquarters, Holly thought constantly about what she was going to do. Naturally, it was her application to recon that she had in mind, and it was no easy matter. Anyone who applied to such a branch had to be either dead serious or profoundly delusional—either you knew what you were signing up for, or you were ignorant of the reality that recon officers had to live. Being the most hazardous and prized position in the entire force—tied with retrieval team operators—it was a very demanding specialization, and anyone interested had to apply in person at the LEPrecon administrative office. Upon doing that, there began the arduous process of selection, evaluation, acceptance, and initiation—a process that only eleven percent of applicants passed. The odds were even higher stacked against female officers, as over the entire history of the special force only seventy-nine females had made it through the initial stages, and none of them had actually made it past the final tests. That meant that Holly was aiming to become the eightieth female applicant in LEP history and, by her heart's fierce intent, the first to be awarded the esteemed title of a recon officer. It was a daunting task, but she was unafraid and certainly not filled with uncertainty. She knew that she had to do it, and no matter what she would succeed. There was no other choice for her in the life she had so determinedly chosen after her mother had died. For Coral, she would go through everything the LEP brass could throw at her and succeed. In spite of all the odds, she would have her dream come true.

With that thought burning in her mind, Holly walked up to the doors of the LEPrecon office. Upon those doors was the famous recon insignia, and when she put her hands on it she felt the invisible line she was about to cross. Hesitation did not occur to her, and neither did fear. She burst into the room as if she were Commander Root himself, sans cigar and crimson countenance. It was a small room, though it was designed in such a way that made it seem spacious, even with the number of seats and desks situated around it. A large window dominated the far wall, looking out into the expanse of the downtown area, and the lighting was good enough to stave off the darkness beyond. Holly set her eyes on the secretary, who was seated directly in front of her at a desk looking very tired as she stared at her computer screen. The name on her placard was _Cassia Aletheia_. There was no one else in the room but the two of them.

"Good morning," Holly said stoically as she approached the desk.

The secretary looked up, blinked, and then spoke tiredly. "It certainly feels like it's morning. How can I help you?"

Holly reached into her pocket and retrieved a neatly folded document, which she promptly slapped down on the desk—she could not help but be forceful at the moment. "I would like to file my application for recon, immediately," she said firmly.

The secretary blinked again, and then furrowed her brow. Clearly she had not seen a female applicant in a few decades. After this initial confusion, she unfolded the paper and read over its neatly written contents, and when this confirmed the validity of Holly's request, she looked up and spoke inquiringly.

"You do know that we have never had a successful female applicant, ever, right?"

This made Holly's temper flare a little, but she kept herself from slugging the rude elf in the face. Instead she spoke calmly, albeit with a slight edge. "Yes, I'm serious."

"So were all the others," the elf replied neutrally, flicking her blonde hair absentmindedly. Then she gave a sardonic smile. "But hey, there's always a first time for everything, am I right?"

Holly didn't even nod; she opted to stare at the secretary with a steely gaze, her eyes narrowed and her mouth curved into a slight frown. This made the other elf's bad humor evaporate like water beneath an erupting volcano, replacing it with a more prudent composure—she was evidently intimidated by the officer's demeanor.

"Right," Cassia said judiciously, "I'll file this right away."

Holly felt her anger dissipate, and her expression softened a little upon this ebbing of fury. "Thank you."

"Just doing my job," the other mumbled as she typed away at her computer. "Anyway, you can expect a long waiting period before your evaluations. There are several hundred other applications before yours. Six months at least. Good luck corporal."

 _Six months…_ Holly nodded wordlessly. She had expected nothing less, and she knew that if she got accepted into LEPrecon it would not be because of luck. Luck meant nothing when it came to this line of work—it had about as much to do with it as dwarf flatulence had to do with human stock markets. It was experience, character, performance, and pure skill that determined who would be adorned with LEPrecon's famous insignia. No amount of luck could change the purely scientific process of selecting the highest caliber officers for the most dangerous job in the force; people like Commander Root, who had the most power over who got accepted, knew how to boil everything down to the finest and most relevant details, right down to the core. Holly knew this, and she was glad, because luck most certainly was a treacherous thing. She would sooner trust a goblin with a pack of matches than trust luck with her future.

Holly thanked the secretary again and left the office, emerging out into the chaos of the morning rush. If she wanted to, she was just in time to pick up a shift. Sure, she could have taken the time off as everyone expected her to, but sitting in her cramped apartment and wallowing in sorrow was not the kind of R&R she needed. She needed to be active, and she needed something to distract her from her pain. It just so happened that when she turned a corner she encountered her section commander, Captain Evergreen. The elf was in the process of drinking coffee and reading news on his datapad when he saw her appear before him, and needless to say he was surprised.

"Corporal Short?" he said with a perplexed expression.

Holly had not expected to run into him so soon, but it served to further her already set intentions. Without any perceivable hesitation she snapped a salute. "Good morning sir."

"At ease, corporal, and good morning," the captain replied. "Now, may I ask what you are doing here? You should be resting after all you have been through."

"With all due respect sir," Holly replied, "a good day's work will help me far better than sitting around doing nothing. Brigadier General Coral Short would not have wanted her daughter forsaking her duty in her name." It was relatively true, but she nonetheless said everything through a veneer of dutifulness, not the desperate need that actually motivated it.

Captain Evergreen nodded thoughtfully. "Are you sure?"

For a moment Holly's hard veneer softened, and this time she spoke without any of the formality or the hard-as-nails tone. She spoke from her heart. "Yes, I am."

Evergreen nodded again, studying her with his intense gaze. He seemed to see at that moment the real reason behind Holly's arrival, and indeed he understood from personal experience. He knew that Holly was not well, that she was broken inside, and he also knew that fairies like her could not stand being idle when such hurt filled them. Holly needed to keep going, in spite of her pain, towards her goals; she would not give up so easily. It was an admirable trait, and the captain smiled a little, impressed.

"Alright, Corporal Short," he said. "I know there are a few vacancies in our patrols that need filling, I'll assign you for today but tomorrow you will be back to your regular position. You are back on duty as of this moment, Corporal. Report to patrol H17 in ten minutes. Are we clear?"

Holly saluted. "Yes sir! Perfectly clear."

Captain Evergreen smiled, and then started to walk down the way Holly had come from. He stopped himself, however, and turned with a curious furrowing of his brow.

"By the way, were you just in the recon office?"

"I was sir," Holly replied. No point in hiding it from him, especially since he was also a member of LEPrecon. "I applied for recon, sir," she added, curious as to what his reaction would be.

The elf did little in terms of that. He merely smiled a little, nodded his head, and spoke sotto voce. "I was wondering when you would. You certainly have what it takes." He then turned again and began to walk away, though he called out to her as he did. "Give em hell Corporal. I look forward to seeing you make history."

Holly was a little surprised by his openness about it—most male officers were quite against the prospect of female recon operatives—and when he was gone she grinned a little. She was glad that not all of her superior officers were misogynist pricks.

Ten minutes later she emerged from headquarters, officially on duty and looking to all the world as if nothing could stop her. It was adamant, the resolve that filled her, and though she accepted the odds and risks for what they were she felt no uncertainty about the decision she had just made. And though she was battling her own demons, afflicted by tragedy, she would strive towards her dream, which lay before her upon a treacherous mountain like an enormous gem catching the rays of a sunrise. Upwards she would climb, through great perils, and never would she look down, not until she was at the very top gazing down in triumph upon all that she had overcome. In time she would have her wish, and after that, a whole new world would await her. Needless to say, not even her imagination could have contrived an image of what would happen over the next few months. After all, life was full of surprises.


	7. Recon

**Author's Note:**

 **Events in this chapter relate to the events in "The Artemis Fowl Files," more specifically Colfer's "LEPRecon" short story. If you do not know what happened in it, you may be reading a lot of this out of context. You can read the summary on the Artemis Fowl Wiki (on wikia).  
**

* * *

 **Holly's Apartment**

Holly awakened to the familiar feeling of a cold sweat covering her entire body, as well as the faint veil of fear that hung in the air alongside sorrow and regret, altogether casting upon her their ominous presence. The tension, the quickened heartbeat, the adrenaline, and the heightened senses—all of these primal responses were present, giving her energy to escape that which was inescapable. Her dreams, her past, her future.

The disorienting awakening had only made her open her eyes. Unlike the first time the nightmares had assaulted her, she remained still and calm, this time knowing exactly what was happening and, to a great extent, feeling little surprise. Even terrors could lose their effect over time. She stared up at the ceiling, ignoring the feeling of entrapment it gave off in the gloom, and only when her heartbeat returned to normal and her initial stress subsided did she sit up. She did so slowly, sighing despite herself, her hazel eyes half closed and her mouth curved downwards in a slight frown. Her perturbed expression lessened a little when she noticed the time—her slumbers had been gradually improving as of late. _Still, these nightmares…_

The nightmares came regularly, like storms by the sea, sometimes consecutively for weeks at a time, making it a near endless struggle between her and the darkness the preyed upon her in the night. They never improved in their intensity, nor did the wounds they opened in her heart heal; not enough time had passed for that to happen. It would be a long time before they were gone, and even when they were there would be scars in their place, aching with distant memory. Even still, despite the constant fear that she many times found in her dreams, she was learning to cope with it. Ever so slowly, over the weeks, she was gaining the upper hand. It just takes time to chain the demons of the heart and mind, because first one has to tame them, and they were so wild by their very nature.

Holly wiped the sweat from her brow and kicked her bed sheets aside, moving to a sitting position on the side of the bed. There she took a moment to feel the floor beneath her feet, to feel the reality around her and not the false one in her dreams, and a few seconds later she pushed herself up and stood in place, thinking about her current state in an analytical manner. The death of her mother had ultimately been the most traumatic experience in her life, and it came as no surprise to her that a degree of post-traumatic stress had risen from it. Months ago, when she had first dealt with its attacks, she had been nearly overwhelmed, but over time and with the help of others she had gained methods to help cope with it. She had a long way to go, but she was moving in the right direction, towards the one path in her life that shined so brightly. She was reminded of this as she passed the table upon which her mother's medals were framed, alongside a picture of her—one in which she was smiling radiantly. It was a shrine in a sense, dedicated to Coral, and she rarely touched it but to keep the dust off. Truly, in her decrepit apartment, it was a little piece of sacrosanct ground, brilliant even in the dark.

Holly smiled when she saw the picture of Coral, as she did every time, and after pausing to regard it she continued on to shower and get ready for the day. The confined space of her apartment irked her significantly as she went about this, but it was yet another thing she was training herself to get used to. Claustrophobia was another condition she had developed from the tragic loss of her mother, the reason being that Coral had suffered greatly within the oppressive confines of the _Sirona_. In the end, though she had many scars and ghosts marring her heart and mind, Holly needed to have the strength and determination to live in spite of them. She learned each any every day how to be stronger, not only for herself, but also in memory of her mother. Coral had been strong—so incredibly strong!—and Holly would accept nothing less from herself. This was part of her legacy, the footsteps in the snowy banks of life that she was intent on following.

Her morning ritual was efficient in every way, having her ready in no more than twenty minutes. Sometimes she would take longer, for the sake of enjoying a long shower, but today was not to be one of those days. In fact, the entire last month had been like that, because each and every morning there was something to get her up and going with a passion. This catalyst was evident when she opened her closet and regarded the uniform that hung there. No longer was the generic green uniform of an LEP corporal. It was something far better.

Seven months ago Holly had applied to join the LEP's renowned recon division, and against all the odds, after six months, she had gotten her chance to prove herself at an initiation headed by Commander Julius Root himself. That initiation had involved a mock operation aboveground, on the coastal Irish island of Tern Mór. That exercise had ended up being anything but mock. The events, which were still under investigation, were classified, but Holly knew it all as a witness. On that island they had encountered Julius' wayward brother, former LEP captain Turnball Root, who with a number of subordinates had attempted to capture them and put an end to the rivalry between him and his brother. Ultimately, by a combined effort, they had thwarted Turnball's plans and captured him alive. It was on that day that Holly had received her status as an LEPrecon officer. A month had passed since then.

Holly took her uniform from its hanger and began to put it on, though not without eyeing its rank insignia. _Captain Holly Short…._ It had a ring to it, surely, and Holly couldn't help but smile with a mixture of joy and sadness. She was now the same rank her mother had been in the LEPmarine. It was an odd feeling, being in her shoes, and Holly could not feel completely good about it, not with the bitterness of her sorrow tainting the waters of her ecstasy. Still, she was as happy as she could be at the moment, despite all of the pain in her heart.

Donning her uniform and service belt, the elf assumed the appearance of the recon officer she had become. Her neutrino—the latest model that none of the regular LEP personnel could get their hands on—was holstered on her right side, and opposite it on her left was the very same omnitool Coral had given her on her graduation day. It was the one thing that had not changed with regard to her equipment, and she liked it that way. Though many things change upon the swift rapids of life, a few remain, through it all, unchanged; even though floods may afflict a land and obliterate its surface, there will always remain that earth beneath it, the foundation upon which all else rises, and for Holly it was those little pieces of her past that formed sturdy ground for her future. There was nothing Holly wanted more than to have Coral with her wherever she went, even if such a presence was only in the gift she had given and the lettering on its side. Having lost so much, it meant everything to her, just as a parched wanderer may cherish but a few drops of water where there had once been lakes and rivers. It was beyond priceless.

Holly finished doing up her uniform, and then she looked in her mirror—into her own eyes, as if looking into the eyes of someone completely different than herself. Then, without a word or a gesture, she walked towards her door. Not a second later her communicator made an notifying sound, and she grabbed it from her belt with her shooting hand, drawing it as fast as she would a blaster.

"Captain Short here," she stated dutifully.

Foaly was on the other end, and the way he spoke indicated that something unexpected had just arisen.

" _Commander Root wants you down at headquarters as soon as possible. Oh, and good morning Holly. How's the new uniform suiting you?"_

Holly smiled a little—Foaly had been with her through all of the last seven months of sorrow, and had been one of the main reasons why her depression had not flourished. "Good morning to you too Foaly. It fits well enough, thanks." Then she became serious, her smile twisting into a compressed line. "Any idea what has arisen?"

 _"We're just getting all the details,"_ the centaur replied. _"Only Root knows everything so far. I know it's a serious matter though, because he's also calling in Retrieval One."_

Holly frowned. Getting Captain Trouble Kelp's elite unit on board was certainly a sign. She wasted no time in leaving her apartment. "I am on my way."

 _"A cruiser is waiting for you."_

"Thanks," Holly said as she rushed down the stairs—the sketchy elevator was too slow for her. When she emerged into the early morning of Haven's residential district, she was greeted by the sight of an LEP cruiser idling on the street. The officer at its wheel—a sprite named Chix Verbil—waved and smiled in a silly fashion, as if she did not notice him parked in the middle of an empty street flashing the lights as if they were in a human rave party. Holly had never met him before, but he would certainly talk enough about himself during the ten minutes it took to reach the plaza. Holly had never been happier to get out of a vehicle in her entire life.

 **Lower Elements Police Headquarters, Haven**

The interior of the headquarters' main briefing room was alight with the glow of screens and holographic projections, which appeared in soft hues of green and blue. Seats ringed a central module, where a large map and applicable data were being holographically displayed, and it was there that Holly found herself, standing at attention before her commander, Julius Root. Foaly was standing a little further back, leaving only three of them in the large briefing room. It was a small but dreadfully serious meeting.

"Good morning Commander. Reporting as requested," Holly said as she approached Root. She was certain to present herself as stoic and prepared, matching her like-purposed attire.

Commander Root turned around from viewing the map, and nodded curtly. A fungus cigar was trapped between his teeth, exuding a swirling cloud of acrid smoke, which puffed out as he spoke. "Forgive me if I skip all the social protocols. We have work to do." He was an intimidating elf, brusque and grizzled alongside his usual dead-stern countenance, and though a part of Holly as inclined to shrink before his presence the rest of her did the opposite. In truth, she admired Julius more than anyone else in the world—anyone living at least—holding a great respect for him and his gargantuan reputation. Ever since she had met him at her initiation—and took part in the Tern Mór incident alongside him—she had been caught between liking and disliking his proclivities, for he was indeed an old-fashioned commander who was harder on female officers. But beneath all of that was something that Holly gravitated towards, something that made her determined, passionate, about working under him. And having lost all of her family, she seemed to be developing an attachment to him, though at present she did not notice it. In time, years and years later, he would be like a father to her.

"Time is of the essence, so I am going to make this quick," Root continued. He looked towards Foaly, while at the same time plunging his smoldering cigar into an ash tray, eliciting another pall of smoke. "Bring up the footage." The centaur complied wordlessly, displayed none of his usual flamboyance in the presence of his stern commander—he knew when it was best not to breach formality, and now was one of those times.

The holographic display was flanked by a number of screens, all of which suddenly began to display high-definition surveillance footage. Holly eyed the screens with a slight glare, not needing an explanation to know what was happening on them. Meanwhile, Commander Root spoke angrily—more so than usual—and pointed at the mug shot that came up an instant later.

"Approximately four hours ago, there was a riot at Haven's Selvoscura Correctional Facility. It was instigated by a group of goblin triads during the night, and somehow it got so out of hand that we had to use the DNA cannons to pacify it. Everyone was accounted for but one…" He nodded at the mug shot, which Holly recognized immediately. "A pixie, Talbot Bryth, managed to escape during the chaos. We do not know how, but he hacked the systems, stole a uniform and ID card, and walked right out the front door. I believe you have met him before, Captain."

Holly nodded, the memory still vivid in her mind. "Seven months ago, on traffic detail. He and his brother were smuggling shellfish. I apprehended them after a _brief_ altercation."

"They were set to be in there for eighty years for their crimes—attempted murder being the worst of them," Root stated gruffly. "I really doubt they'd have made it out early on good behavior either."

"What of his brother?" Holly asked.

Root turned and looked at her, his face still contorted by his serious mood. "His brother was killed three months ago. Stabbed to death in his cell by a psychotic dwarf wielding a smuggled penknife. Blasted mess, shouldn't have happened."

This was unexpected, but not implausible. Holly only nodded solemnly—Jarmil had never been the type to last long in prison, not without his brother nearby to protect him. She felt bad, though it was not her fault he was dead; she just hated it when anyone died, for she abhorred murder more than anything else. She said nothing as her commander continued.

"Mr. Bryth used his stolen LEP gear to make it across the city without any issue. By the time the riot was pacified and order restored, he was long gone."

"And to make my day worse," Foaly interjected, "the slimy thug managed to fool all of the facial recognition cameras I have in the city. With an elementary trick no less…"

Root shot the centaur an irritated glance. "You can keep your wounded pride to yourself, Foaly." He was clearly in a very sour mood, because after shouting at the centaur he growled something under his breath. It was evident that something worse was getting at him, something terrible. He lit another cigar, puffed out a cloud of smoke, and spoke bitterly. "Two hours ago he reached Chute E1's shuttle port. Given the hour we had only the minimal staff there at the time. He gained access to our section of the hangar, and there just so happened to be a magma flare incoming. He took one of our pods and rode it all the way up to Tara." Julius paused, this time taking a very long drag from his fungus cigar. He spoke through the ghostly cloud of smoke that followed, with a suddenly solemn tone. "We had one officer on post at the launch site. There should have been two, but the other was called away on an emergency. He seemed to see Mr. Bryth for the impostor he really was, because he tried to stop him." He glanced up at a new surveillance feed, where the two could be seen standing only a few meters apart, weapons drawn. "Talbot killed him without hesitation. Shot him with his stolen neutrino set to lethal, even though he could have just stunned him."

The news was enough to make Holly boil on the inside, and seeing the footage before her—the confrontation and the almost casual way in which Talbot shot the officer—made her fury almost bubble over. She clenched her teeth a she watched the officer fall over like a sack of bricks, a hole scorched through his upper chest. It was impossible to tell who the officer was, because he had a helmet on and his name badge was too small to make out in the video. Holly felt compelled to ask, even though she was afraid of what she would hear. "Who was he?"

Root remained glaring at the screen, betraying only the anger for what he saw. "Corporal Finn Underwood."

Holly felt shock rush through her. Finn, the young recruit who had been her partner on traffic duty for nearly the entirely of her deployment, had been killed in cold blood. She had known him well enough, and had depended on him while on the job; between them they had shared some very interesting experiences, including regular encounters with fish smugglers. Nothing could describe the astonishment that struck Holly at that moment, throwing her off canter and filling her with unpleasant feelings. She started to feel a little sick, but more than anything there was anger and sorrow, mixing together like water and poisonous solvent, forming a black admixture in her heart. She clenched her fists until they shook, and her eyes, locked into a glare, observed the footage of her partner being shot through the heart and falling dead. She watched as Talbot smoothly holstered his pistol and crouched over the body, looting it of a few items before callously stepping over it towards the launch tubes. There seemed to be no remorse in Talbot's heart. He had committed murder as if it were nothing.

Commander Root regarded Holly as she went through this change, and there was sympathy in his brown eyes, coupled with a rare show the sadness he felt beneath his solid veneer. "Corporal Underwood set off an alert before he was killed. That is the only reason we are able to act on Talbot's escape this soon. It took courage for him to step in that murderer's path. Great courage…"

Holly merely nodded, struggling to regain her composure. There were too many dead heroes haunting her mind, their faces and their words. When would it end? Never. Not as long as bravery, selflessness, and loyalty remained in the hearts of the few who donned a uniform in service of others. Holly's posture remained straight and firm even as her expression wavered. In her inner affliction she awaited her commander's orders. Root was eager to proceed, driven by anger and determination alike.

"That is why I am giving you the first shot at this mission, Captain. I anticipated that you would volunteer for it anyway and not take no for an answer." That was the crystalline truth, and they all knew it. "You also know the fugitive better than we do, even if that is only by the merit of a single encounter. He is armed and extremely dangerous, equipped with our own technology. I do not want you to engage him if possible, rather find his location and report it in. Retrieval One is currently organizing to provide support for you in case of a confrontation." He paused, his demeanor changing by a fraction into a more personal one. "However, if you should be in the right position, do not hesitate to take him down. I want that bastard brought back to Haven in chains. He will pay for what he has done for the rest of his miserable life."

These were Holly's thoughts exactly. Though she was a professional operative, she was still filled with the burning desire to bring this murderer to justice, especially since he had killed a friend of hers. She would have to control herself, she noted, as emotions could wreak havoc in high-stress situations. "You can consider it done, Commander," she said firmly. "I will not rest until he is in custody."

"Do not underestimate him," Julius cautioned. "Corporal Underwood's alert gave Tara some forewarning about the fugitive. We had fifteen officers up there ready to arrest him the moment he exited his pod. They did not succeed. Talbot was not in the pod when it arrived."

"Did he have a set of wings?" Holly asked.

"Unfortunately he stole one of those as well. He bailed out of the pod using the emergency eject, and then flew to Tara discreetly. While our officers were surrounding his pod, he was making his way through the station. He was spotted by a guard while exiting, but he opened fire on those who tried to pursue him, injuring seven in total."

 _D'arvit…_ Holly thought, envisioning it in her head.

"That is why I am cautioning you, Captain," Root said sternly. "You have carried out three successful recons thus far, but with relatively low-risk targets. This is about as hot as it gets. When you located the fugitive, do not engage unless you must. Otherwise wait for Captain Kelp and his team."

"Yes sir," Holly said automatically.

Commander Root nodded, still glaring at everything with a beet-red face. He turned to Foaly. "Fill Holly in on the technical mumbo jumbo."

Foaly frowned a little. "It's not _mumbo jumbo_ , Commander, it's very respectful scientific information…"

"Just push the button and talk before I push it with your face," Root retorted sharply.

"What a thankless job I have, woe is me," the centaur muttered under his breath as he typed a few things into his datapad. The holographic map changed location, focusing in on the region where Tara was located. A number of red markers lit up in a perceivable line, which went west from the terminal and into the Irish countryside. Foaly was visibly perturbed as he spoke. "He was smart enough to remove or disable all of the tracking equipment in the LEP gear he stole. All that remains are traces of the markers and signals that were implanted, whispers as it were, and they are difficult to pinpoint right after a magma flare. All I have are these pinpointed locations, where I managed to detect faint signals. I have not received any more pings since the initial search, so I am assuming that our friendly fugitive has done more modifications to the gear."

Holly was listening intently, and with crossed arms she forwarded her deduction. "He can still be tracked."

"Yes he can," Foaly said with an unintentional grin. "We have devices that can work on the surface to better target these whispers. We need an operative on the ground to do this, which is where you come in." He centaur walked over to a table and retrieved a small device—no larger than a television remote—which he promptly handed to Holly. "This will be detect any residual traces of his passage. Don't ask me how it works, because I still haven't patented it yet and there are ears everywhere. Just press the button and bam! Well, not _that_ dramatic, but it's still cool. It's already calibrated, so you're good to go."

With the device in her hand, Holly examined it a little. "How far can its readings reach out to?"

"One kilometer at present, depending on the environmental conditions of course. That is why time is of the essence, as otherwise the traces will dissipate completely."

"Then let's not waste any more time," Holly growled, holstering the device in a slot on her belt.

Commander Root was of the same opinion. "There is a magma flare schedule to arrive in twenty minutes. I want you on it. A pod has been prepped for drop, and Tara is expecting your arrival." He paused to take a long drag on his cigar, and then puff the smoke out in ethereal swirls. "Remember, Captain, do not engage unless there is a clear opening to do so, and keep your unorthodox methods to a minimum." Another pause, this time to look Holly over with harsh, piercing eyes, evidently to keep her attention. "Talbot is highly mobile, which is why I am sending you to recon his location—not to go in guns blazing like some human action hero wannabe. If we waited for a larger force to be mobilized, he may well be on the other side of the planet by then, and I am not interested in conducting a worldwide hunt for this sack of shit. So get out there and give me a reason to not regret giving you that badge."

"Yes sir," Holly replied.

The old commander nodded, still eyeing her with his calculating gaze. "You proved yourself very well Tern Mór, Captain. Here is your chance to do so again. Dismissed."

"Roger that," Holly said, saluting quickly before turning on her heel and striding towards the door. She was now set on her task, locked on like a bloodhound, her target clear and her path set. Nothing would stop her now. In all of her previous recon missions she had displayed a terrifying level of dedication and tenacity, and she had hunted down her prey no matter how many obstacles they had thrown in her path; all ingenuity and criminal cleverness failed before her intelligence and strength. She had not been so personally invested in those missions either, and thus this one, so connected to her heart, was destined to be carried out with unprecedented precision. Though there were many uncertainties on the surface for an officer like her, Holly knew one thing for certain: Talbot had made the biggest mistake of his life, and she would be the one to make him realize it.

 **Haven Terminal, Chute E1**

The hot air of the terminal blasted against Captain Short as she strode through the massive hangar that the LEP used for its ships. She walked swiftly, but she did not run; she balanced her urgency with the control of a professional soldier, resisting haste when there was no need. She still had eight minutes until the magma flare arrived, plenty of time. She was suited up in her personalized recon gear, which was one of the most expensive pieces of attire the LEP had in its inventory, and held at her side was her helmet. She left the latter off for now, letting her auburn hair blow about in the wind, fiery and wild. Equally as fiery was her expression, her visage contorted by seriousness and her hazel eyes filled with resolve. Everything about her screamed determination and danger, and that was the truth. She was very determined, and extremely dangerous to those who dared to rise against her. This is the way she usually approached a mission, but this one was much different than the others. This one was personal.

By this point the terminal's enormous blast doors were closing, cutting the hangar off from the looming expanse of the chute itself; it cut off the hot wind as well, eliminating the turbulence Holly had to walk through. Passing through a security checkpoint, Holly then ascended a fast gravity lift that took her to the pod launch area. She emerged out into the hallway that followed.

The hallway was short, well lit, and occupied by several armed guards—unlike the night before—and at its end was a series of launch tubes, each one accessing a pod that would subsequently be launched into the chute. Holly had been here many times and was used to the whole process of being launched in a titanium egg into the mouth of a magma flare, yet now it felt horrendously different, the very air feeling—and tasting—like some place out of a surreal memory. It was no mystery why this was, Holly knew. Hours ago Talbot, that heartless pixie, had walked this very ground, his heart filled with murder and his hand on his gun. Holly walked slowly to the far end, all the while looking at the floor. She stopped short of the launch tubes, still gazing at the floor, still remembering.

Only a few hours ago her partner had been standing on this spot, face to face with his killer, screaming for him to drop his weapon. His body was now in a morgue somewhere in Haven, and his family notified no doubt. Holly knew exactly how they would feel when they realized that Finn was dead. She knew all too well how much it hurt. The blood had yet to be cleaned up—it stained the ground a dark crimson, coagulated and solidifying in the warm air. Holly stared at it for a long moment, cast in dreadful thought, all the while feeling a sorrowful disgust rise in her chest. Blood was so visibly hidden in life, and yet so evident in death, like something unearthed only by great turmoil. She could not help but wonder what had went through Finn's head when he was on that ridge between life and death. Had he been afraid? Certainly. But what else had been there, alongside his terror? Holly would never know. Death cuts short everything, and casts all into a concealing mist.

 _He won't get away, I promise,_ Holly thought, making a pledge to her fallen comrade. Then, concealing her sadness, she proceeded past the guards—who had been watching sympathetically—and went up to the launch tube that was flashing a green light. The pod was ready, and the flare was only a few minutes away. It was time to drop into hell, quite literally. After donning her helmet, Holly jumped into the opening and, after a brief slide, found herself seated in the oppressive confines of one of the titanium pods. It was incredibly small, the space she was in, and it was only natural that her claustrophobia began to make her heart beat faster, rising from the depths of her being to torment her. She was used to this as well, and instead of panicking as she would have long ago, she breathed steadily and focused on strapping in. When all was ready the elf flicked several switches on the control panel and then sat back to wait. A moment later she heard a muffled noise and felt the pod moving.

The drop pod was moved off of the loading racks—where hundreds of other pods sat dormant—and sent through a series of blast doors, taking it from the safety of the terminal out into the danger of the scalding-hot chute. The magma flare illuminated the depths with a hellish fire, and the very earth rumbled as it approached with appalling speed. Over this pit of hellfire Holly's pod dangled, and then, all of the sudden, it dropped.

Holly felt the sensation of falling, and she could envision the depths beneath her, alight with fire and molten rock. The pod was designed to dampen all of the deadly forces outside and protect the occupant from the g-force that would follow, just like the LEP shuttles. Only when the pod was struck by the wall of magma and fire did Holly feel a jolt, a change of direction, and constant vibrations. Now she was going up at supersonic speed, carried by a wave of crimson, a harbinger of the earth's natural fury. It would take less than half an hour to reach the surface. In forty minutes she would be in the fields of Ireland, hunting down a murderer. She waited patiently until then, preparing herself for what would come. On the surface there was no telling what may happen, and Holly always made sure that she knew the risks—just as Coral had, whenever she had set out in the _Sirona_ to save the world. This tangent of thought made her expressions change a little, from stoicism into a mixture of sadness and resolve. Again, in her footsteps, she followed. The question was, where would they take her? Even the noble paths in life are shrouded in mystery, and no matter how well one knows the reason for choosing that certain way—for picking a single path out of a billion potentialities—they never know, nor can expect, the lines it will cross or the depths to which it will venture.


	8. The Hunt

**West of Summerhill, Ireland**

The Irish countryside stretched out into the distant gloom, disappearing gradually into the fold of the night whilst the stars glimmered overhead in a cloudless sky, where a crescent moon hung lazily above all. It was only an hour past midnight, and the world was asleep, leaving the hills and meadows tranquil but for the night creatures that came out to conduct their shadowed business. A gentle wind joined this scene, moving trees and swaying grass, as if to lull the very darkness to sleep with their soothing motions and soft sounds. This atmosphere blanketed the County Meath completely, caressing its slumbering farmlands, and in a field just southeast of Isaacstown stood a figure wide awake unlike the rest, cast in shadow as it stood at the summit of a small hill. Below were hedgerows and a muddy path, all lined by trees, and in the distance was the silent outline of a farmstead. The figure regarded it all appreciatively with hazel eyes. The moonlight outlined her in silver, revealing the smile that was on her face. Moments like this were what helped Holly cope with her demons, laying to rest the tumult of her heart in the peace of the world she loved. If only she could savor it longer, but she could not. Amidst all of the beauty she saw before her, somewhere on the horizon, lurked her deadly prey. The hunt was before her.

The elven captain stood amidst the swaying grass, her helmet tucked under her arm so that she could feel the cool air on her face. She only let herself enjoy it for a moment, before turning her gaze to the device in her hand, which she had been waiting for to run a scan. It revealed whispers, clues, of her target's past movements, and so far she was on track, catching the remnants of the LEP gear he stole—mainly airborne traces of the unique energies given off by an LEP neutrino pistol or the standard set of wings. It was like a trail of breadcrumbs, useful for only a short time before it was devoured. Holly knew that she could follow it fast enough. She was on Talbot's trail like a bloodhound, and nothing could shake her. So far she had had no issues.

Only ten minutes ago she had arrived at the aboveground terminal, Tara, in her supersonic pod. There she had quickly disembarked and traversed the station, and for the entirety of that time Tara's director—an elf-goblin hybrid named Nimbus—had remained at her elbow speaking continuously about the mess that the fugitive had caused. Holly had put with it and said nothing but the occasional affirmation, focusing on her surroundings. The signs of the gunfight were obvious, with scorch marks and molten holes covering the walls near the exit, and bloodstains where the officers had been wounded. Twenty officers were standing guard there, looking ready for a fight, and when Holly appeared they stepped aside—they knew who the real badass was, and it certainly wasn't them. She left the station without ever breaking her stride or saying more than five words, and once she was out in the open on the old McGraney farmstead, she powered up her wings and blasted off into the cool night air. During flight she had picked up Talbot's trail.

"Where are you running to?" Holly whispered as she eyed the readouts on the device. Further west, apparently, and fast. She knew what he was running from at least. She had to keep moving.

Putting her helmet back on and powering up her wings, the recon officer took to the sky once again. She moved in silence, not even saying anything into her headset. Radio silence was necessary under these circumstances, as Talbot had stolen LEP tech at his fingertips, and given his intelligence he could likely tap into any communications Holly made with her superiors. For the time being, she was on her own.

Flying fast and keeping just above the treetops, Holly skimmed over the lush countryside like a bird of prey, a hair's breadth from danger and yet perfectly secure due to skill and confidence. On other days she would love the feeling of this, and she would even take her helmet off and feel the wind in her face and all of the exhilaration of flying on the surface. But not tonight, not when she was on the hunt. There was no time to waste on her own personal enjoyment, though it was not like she wanted to either. There was nothing more that she wanted at the moment than to track down her target and put a few neutrino shots into his face. It was a vengeful thought, but it coincided with her orders. If she got the opening she needed, she would drop him like a sack of bricks. _You're not going to hurt anyone after this, you sick bastard,_ Holly thought angrily, the memory of her fallen comrade burning in her mind. _You're going to be locked away for the rest of your life, for all of the years you took from Finn._ Holly's sense of justice was fierce, but she knew when to calm herself down. She knew that it would be foolish to let her hatred take control. Yet it was so easy to hate! It was so much harder to love in a world so blackened by wayward hearts.

Keeping to the forests and fields, away from the major settlements, the elf flew southwest in accordance to her tracker's readings. Her flight took her past Edenderry, Tullamore, and then suddenly directly south, over Clonaslee, until she was before a range of mountains. These hills were small in a relative sense, but at a peak of five-hundred meters they were large by local standards, contrasting greatly with the rolling farmland at its steps. The humans called them the Slieve Bloom Mountains. Being a protected ecological area, there were no human settlements present among the natural earthen undulations, and though it was a hot spot for hikers and tourists, it was nearly deserted so early in the morning. Talbot was fled into them, and Holly understood why. It was a perfect place to lay low. _Or to rendezvous with others…_ Holly frowned when this occurred to her, and then picked up her speed. This had to be her target's destination, so she had to be quick. She could not afford to let him slip through her fingers.

Over the first few mountains she followed her tracker, finding that the traces were stronger and more consistent than before. This encouraged her suspicion that Talbot meant to stop there, somewhere, and with that idea solidifying into a near certainty, Holly steeled herself for what was to come. Being so close to her target, and so close the inevitable confrontation, Holly felt a sensation within her, an excitement that was both energizing and ominous. Like an adventurer setting forth upon the sea and, seeing a great storm rising before the bow of his vessel, feeling a mixture of reckless anticipation and veiled dread, so too did Holly feel her own set of clashing reactions. She ignored them for the most past, keeping her mind on her job and her eyes on the hills ahead. It was only a minute later when her tracker went berserk with proximity readings, and upon that alert Holly dove to the ground and settled atop a hillock. Surrounded by grass and trees, she crouched down as she scanned the valley below. Amongst the trees and streams at the bottom was what looked like the ruins of an old church, one of many in the Irish countryside, and when she saw it Holly switched on her thermal filters, hoping to catch signs of life. She did, in fact—just moments before someone disappeared behind the wall of the stone structure.

"There you are," Holly whispered, a snarl curling her lips, and then a grin. Without another word she holstered the tracking device and started to make her way into the valley. She was shielded, and her recon armor amplified the effect, but even still she kept to whatever cover she could find, whether it be trees, rocks, ravines, or riverbeds cut into the hillside. In ten minutes she was at the bottom, only a hundred feet from the ruins, and there she hunkered down in the bushes, scoping it out again, ever watchful. At this distance the structure was a lot larger than it had appeared before, looming against the moonlit sky like a colossus, all unfeeling stone. Years of neglect had left it a shell of its former glory, its wooden roof and doors having long since deteriorated, leaving it a skeleton of brick and mortar; a remnant of a past age, forgotten by its own countrymen. Plants and trees were growing up around it, and ivy vines and moss covered its ancient stone walls. Nature was reclaiming it, but not destroying it. It took the abandoned creation and made it beautiful again, giving it a crown of leafs and robes of green, breathing a new life into the cold, damp stone. Holly eyed it warily, breathed a deep breath, and then started to move in with slow, silent steps. She left her wings behind in the bush, and drew her neutrino as she stalked, all with a meditated stealth that masked her approach. The sound of crickets and a faint breeze in the foliage masked her advance even more, though the moon still cast its silvery rays upon her when she neared the structure. She smoothly transitioned to the outer wall of the building, and then worked her way along it until she was near the door. She did not enter—using the front door was the stupidest thing she could have done, as nine times out of ten the hostile inside was in position and ready to perforate any such fool with a fusillade of laser rounds. Instead she climbed through the yawning window to its right, noiselessly landing on the stone floor within.

With her thermal filters on and her neutrino ready, Holly could have eliminated anyone she saw the moment she entered. But she saw no one. Two rows of pillars lined each side of the main room, forming the aisles, and they blocked her view. Using the nearest as cover, the elf peered into the nave of the structure, which was an open space bereft of the seats that had been there centuries ago. It was there that she saw Talbot Bryth, standing in the middle of the room with his back to her. He had a weapon in his hand, and was in the process of interacting with a stolen LEP communicator.

Holly did not hesitate when she saw him, and she did not speak, not even the curses that part of her wanted to yell. Instead she peeked around the pillar with her right arm raised, ready to fire, but before she pulled the trigger she noticed that something was terribly off. The moon was right above Talbot, and yet it did not outline him with silver as it did everything else, nor did it cast a warped shadow as it did with the pillars on both sides of him. He was like a ghost, there and yet absent in form, visible yet intangible. Holly saw this, and in that split-second realized that she was aiming at a perfectly devised hologram. A _click_ echoed in the darkness behind her, and she felt her blood freeze whilst her mind stated the obvious.

 _D'arvit!_

Holly threw herself to the side as a burst of neutrino fire erupted from the darkness behind her, and it was only her quick reaction that saved her from being killed then and there. She rolled a few meters perpendicular to her attacker, behind several of the pillars, and then returned fire, seeing the muzzle flare of her opponent and aiming at it. More neutrino shots blasted apart the stone around her—they were lethal charges—and in that storm of death Holly was forced to take cover again. She sat up with her back to a pillar, breathing steadily, and waited. Darkness and moon-cast shadows surrounded her, all twisted and deceptive by their very nature, seeking to mislead like the devils that whispered in the ears of rational creatures.

"So old Commander Root sent one of his bloodhounds after me," a voice spoke out from the malicious darkness. It was the voice Holly remembered Talbot to have, but there was something different about it, something abnormal. "I was expecting someone like you…"

Holly said nothing to her attacker. Instead she let him talk, so that she could figure out where he was positioned. Calling backup was an option as well, but she had no time to distract herself in doing so. Surely Foaly, who was watching through her helmet's high-definition camera, would realize that she was in a gunfight with the fugitive. She glanced about readily as she waited, and again Talbot spoke, his twisted voice reverberating off the stone walls and melding with the night.

"I have to admit, I am pleasantly surprised. None of the feeble officers I encountered today could have dodged that in time. You're recon, right? One of Julius' obedient dogs?"

Again Holly held her tongue, slowly moving to aim in the direction the voice was coming from. For the next minute no one spoke, and in that time they both repositioned themselves. Holly knew that Talbot was not stupid enough to talk for long; he was silently hunting her, just as she was hunting him. With her thermals on it should have been easy to spot him, but she did not even catch a glimpse. He was good, very good, and that was a huge difference from seven months ago, when he had been a reckless fool. It was enough to make her clench her teeth—she did not know this Talbot at all, so changed was he. Then she heard the scuffing of boots high above her. Keeping to the pillars, she aimed upwards, seeing the open sky above and, due to the absent roof, a walkable space along the perimeter of the walls. It was then that she saw Talbot, perched upon the top of the wall with a neutrino in his hand. He had an LEP helmet on as well, so they both saw each other the moment they made contact. Holly fired swiftly, as did the pixie, and it was a fierce exchange that lasted thirty seconds. In that amount of time Talbot threw himself from the wall, landing agilely among the pillars, all while shooting at Holly with surprising accuracy. Each fired and received fire in turns, seeking cover and then gaining an opening, and it was an unforgiving rivalry in which a second's hesitation would lead to defeat. Holly avoided death by these decisive seconds, as did her opponent, though she could have sworn she struck him once in the chest. Then again, he had an LEP duty vest—stolen from the prison—and it could defuse non-lethal neutrino shots to the point that they only gave him a light shock. It was the opposite with a lethal charge, and with such a difference in firepower it was quite unfair for Holly, who was trying to balance her mission with her refusal to harm even the worst of monsters. Such was the price of having morals, when all of those who challenged you had none; Talbot's heart was not a throne to mercy, or anything remotely kind, but rather a seat upon which hatred and violence reclined.

A lethal neutrino blast melted away the stone next to Holly's head, and she retaliated by ducking low and firing a burst around the corner, suppressing her opponent for a few seconds. She knew that Talbot was moving around her, and this was confirmed when a shadow detached itself from the pillars to her right and opened fire with a vengeance. A fusillade of shots filled the air between them, and Holly, thanks to a quick shot, blasted Talbot's LEP helmet clean off, sending it and him tumbling back into the shadows. At the same time one of Talbot's shots grazed Holly's visor, damaging her helmet's ocular filters and making her view distorted. Holly tore off the helmet and threw it aside, yelling at the fallen pixie.

"Surrender Talbot! You're not going to get away this time!"

The pixie, who was on his back, suddenly rolled to the side, and he fired his neutrino as he did so, forcing Holly to get behind another pillar lest she be killed. The shots went on for ten seconds, blasting apart nearly half of the old stone, and then they stopped, leaving both fairies in a smoke-filled gloom, with silver rays cutting from above. Holly was waiting patiently for her enemy when she heard him speak again.

"I know your voice," he said slowly, with a rising anger in his words. "You're that bitch who landed me and my brother in prison."

Holly glared as she powered up her neutrino to a higher level, and she spoke coldly. "You killed my friend, you monster. You deserved to be behind bars then and most certainly now."

"My brother is dead because of you!" the other retorted, now consumed by rage. It was clear that he was mentally unstable due to the loss of his brother, his very mind thrown off its stable rails by the terror of losing a loved one—a terror Holly knew well.

"You're the one who led him down that path," she growled, refusing to show sympathy. "You were always the stronger one, so he followed you, even into the life of crime that would be his undoing. You enabled that tragedy long before I came along."

"Shut your mouth!" Talbot rasped.

There was a moment of silence as both of them stood behind their respective pillars, their backs to stone and their hands holding their weapons readily. Then, with a suddenly calm tone, Talbot spoke smoothly. "No matter. What's done is done. My brother is dead, and I have but one path to follow as a consequence…." There was a pause—a transformative pause in which dark intentions flourished. "I am actually glad Julius decided to send you after me. Killing your partner was enjoyable enough, even though he was a hopeless fool. Killing you will make up for all of the disappointments I have experienced today, and for the months I spent in that hell." He laughed a little, a partially controlled madness in his dark mirth. "If it were any other recon officer I would not feel like this. But you, ah yes, you are worth the time to kill. And I will kill you, Corporal Holly Short."

"It's captain now, shithead," Holly growled, readying her blaster.

"Moving up the ladder are we?" Talbot replied. "Well, I am sure that your death will grant you a very nice posthumous promotion. Maybe you'll be buried as a lieutenant colonel, just like your stupid mother."

Those heartless words surprised Holly, because she had no idea Talbot knew about Coral and her personal life. But apparently he did, and he went as far as to insult Coral, an elf who had done nothing in her life to deserve such ridicule. It made Holly's blood boil, and filled her mind with dark thoughts—the ease with which she could feel this was astonishing, and it bespoke the tender scars that still needed time to heal. Needless to say, the monster that had killed her friend had just driven another spike into his coffin. As she breathed calming breaths and glanced about carefully, she spoke with an extremely dangerous voice, all of her rage and hatred exuding from every syllable.

"I will make you take that back, Talbot. Just as I will make you pay for what you did."

"I would sooner walk right into Howler's Peak than take back what I meant to say, _Captain_ ," he said, before calling out with ridicule in his every word. "And I heard that your mother died saving a crew of those loathsome humans, ones who were ultimately responsible for her demise. I can't believe an elf of her caliber would stoop to such a level. Truly she was a pathetic, naïve little disgrace to the People. A waste of fairy blood!"

Holly's grip on her pistol tightened, and her eyes flared. "Shut up already!"

He did not. Instead he continued, finding pleasure in his little game of verbal assaults. "Why do it? Why protect them? They deserved to die. They all deserve to die!"

This time Holly remained silent, and waited for more of his vitriol. She did not hear any more of it. Instead she heard footsteps and the hum of a blaster. What happened next was swift, though perceived with a slowness that was surreal. Holly ducked low just as her opponent stuck his blaster around the corner at head level—it would have touched her temple otherwise—and as he fired what he thought to be a fatal shot she burst upwards and grabbed his arm with her left hand while she directed her neutrino with the other. She was face to face with him at that moment, and she could see the utter hatred and madness in his moonlit eyes. He fired shot after shot, and struggled against her grip, but she held firm and, after a moment of growling and cursing, managed to push her neutrino into his exposed neck. She was about to pull the trigger when she saw, in the corner of her vision, Talbot's free hand aiming another blaster—the one he'd stolen from Finn. She reacted as fast as she could, firing her blaster—and missing by an inch—while literally throwing Talbot to the ground with a move that would have captivated pro-wrestlers. The pixie hit the stone with a grunt, and he dropped his weapon in the process. Holly, on the other hand, kept her neutrino in her grip. She stomped down on his right hand, and kicked aside his other weapon, sending it clattering into the darkness. Then she knelt over him, keeping him pinned with her legs and her free hand.

It was only then that she got a good look at Talbot. He was the same pixie she had seen before in the streets of Haven, and yet amidst all of the similarities there were subtle, chilling changes. His pale face was lined by hatred and anger, constantly as if it were his natural disposition, and in his eyes was a haunting look, a glimmer that seemed almost feral. There was fear, madness, and an incredible loneliness in his gaze, as if he were a ghost—like being doomed to a life in the shadows, bereft of hope, lost in the very heart of a whirlwind of despair. It was an ominous thing, looking into those killing eyes, those dead eyes in a living body, and Holly felt a shiver go down her spine despite all that she had experienced in her life. She had never seen someone so torn from themself, so hollowed out by dark emotions, so completely poisoned by hate. It was something she would never forget. Though she felt this way inwardly, she wore a fierce expression, and when she spoke she did so firmly, betraying none of the uneasiness that was within her.

"You're under arrest."

Talbot grinned a death's-head grin, and his eyes mirrored a corrupted mind—a desperate, broken mind. "I won't go back there."

Holly pressed her blaster against his forehead. "I will drag you back myself if I have to."

"No," Talbot rasped, "you won't."

In a flash of motion the pixie produced a small knife in his free hand, which he slashed—with blinding speed—towards Holly's face. The elf jumped back and tried to fire, but Talbot was impossibly swift, kicking the weapon from her hand and launching himself towards her with his knife glinting in the moonlight. In moments like this, an officer was trained to fall back on their very instinct—onto what they had practiced over and over until it was a fixture in their neural pathways. That is exactly what Holly did. Not breaking her motion with any indecision, she backpedaled agilely, avoiding the wild attacks from her opponent. When she saw that he was not tiring even slightly, she reached for her own blade—a large combat knife—and pulled it out into the moonlight. This made Talbot hesitate a little, though not for long. He growled at her, like a rabid animal circling its prey, and then stabbed viciously. Again she dodged, but only by a close margin. The hiss of the blade that missed her by an inch seemed to fill the night air, like a scream in an empty wasteland.

"You're good at this," Talbot growled as they circled each other. "Much better than that fool of a partner of yours."

Holly did not reply in the conventional sense. Instead she found an opening in his guard, and slashed with her own knife, opening a deep gash across the pixie's face—one that was quickly healed by magic. It only made the pixie grin.

"You should have been there when I shot him. He screamed like a child in the split second before he died. I dare say he was a coward, and I bet he pissed himself too, a classic final act for such a worm."

The pixie's blade screamed past Holly's face, and she could feel the very air of its passage, but this did not keep her from acting on her foe's reckless move. Sidestepping the attack, she punched him thrice in rapid succession, in the face, neck, and solar plexus, intentionally keeping her blade's edge pointed away. He reeled back, swinging feebly, and Holly gave him no respite. A powerful kick to his face sent him stumbling backwards into a pillar, but to his credit he recovered in time to retaliate. He shot up and nearly rammed his knife into Holly's throat, but she dodged to the side and remained out of his wild reach, ever careful of his unpredictable nature.

"I'm going to bleed you dry," Talbot said coldly, breathing a little heavier. Sweat glistened on his face, and pure malice grinned through every contortion of his countenance. "I'll skin that pretty face of yours and send it back to old Root as a souvenir. You'll be getting a closed-casket ceremony when I'm finished with you."

"Nice threat," Holly replied dryly, brandishing her knife, "it would do nicely in a low budget human movie."

"We'll see how humorous you are when I have my knife in your guts!"

The fight resumed, even more intense than before, with the two fairies exchanging blows and dodging more than one could track. For Holly it was easy, for she was an expert at hand-to-hand combat, and as a result Talbot got the worst of it; though, he took it well enough, acting as if he was under the influence of some sort of narcotic. Nothing seemed to faze him, and Holly suspected that he had taken something to enhance his abilities. There certainly was a market for such things, especially in prisons. However, this was just conjecture, and in the heat of the moment there was no time for anything more. Death was always within a split-second's reach, and distractions were priced in shed blood.

Working their way back among the pillars, where the shadows were more prevalent, the two fairies fought without pause. Talbot attacked with wild swings, his knife clashing with the stone columns and casting sparks into the damp air—transient but brilliant flashes of gold. He growled with each attack, his eyes never leaving Holly's. He was determined to kill her by whatever means, and he thought he had a better advantage among the confining stone. Holly thought otherwise, and as she continued to act defensively, she eyed the pillars and the footholds present on their irregular surfaces. This gave her a very reckless idea, the sort that would make old-school officers like Root burst a blood vessel. After deflecting a stab with her own blade, she unexpectedly turned around and started running. Naturally, in his current state, Talbot pursued.

"You can't get away from me!" he yelled.

Holly ran at a moderate pace, letting her foe keep up with her. She was heading straight towards a pillar at the far end of the room, and she reached it in seconds, and there she did not stop. Instead, mirroring something she had never actually done before, she vaulted upwards and planted her feet on the wall one by one, running upwards with her forward momentum. For only half a second she did this, before pushing off and flipping upside down through the air. This flight took her right above Talbot, who was far too surprised to do anything but stare. Their heads were almost touching as they passed, and Holly, thinking quickly, wrapped both of her arms around the pixie's neck mid-flight. What happened next was simply gravity. Holly fell to the ground, and her headlock flipped the startled pixie over and sent him down with her, where he crashed with a pained grunt. It would have broken his neck, had Holly not intentionally absorbed most of the impact for him, but even still it was enough to daze him, leaving him unresponsive for a few decisive seconds. In that amount of time Holly disarmed him, rolled him on his back, and put him in a better headlock with her knife held inches from his throat.

"Are you done?" she growled, holding him fast as he came to realize his predicament.

Talbot, to her surprise, spoke very calmly. "No. I will never be done. Not until I die."

"Don't tempt me!" Holly said darkly, pressing the knife a little closer. The pixie chuckled.

"Go ahead. Do it."

Holly's eyes narrowed even more. "I'm not like you."

"You're right. You don't have it in you, _Captain_. You can't even hurt a fly. Just like your partner. He didn't have the guts to shoot first!"

Holly responded to this by grabbing the pixie by the back of his head and slamming his face down against the stone floor, breaking his nose. "How's that for starters?"

The pixie gagged due to the pain, but then spoke defiantly. "Is that all you got?"

She slammed him down three more times, eliciting an involuntary cry on the third. "I can do this all morning," she said coldly. "Now stop resisting!"

To his credit, the pixie finally did—or maybe he was just complying in order to gain an opening on her. Holly didn't take any chances. She restrained his wrists and legs with simple but effective zip ties, and then frisked him for more weapons, though nothing was to be found. She then went to pick up her neutrino, which was leaning against one of the pillars, barrel facing upward. _All in a day's work,_ she thought as she picked up her blaster and checked its setting. A part of her was inclined to think the ordeal over, but when she was returning to the incapacitated fugitive she felt something change in the air—a subtle shift, an imperceptible warning. Then a sound came from the distance.

There was a rumble, one that sounded through the valley and shook the very earth. The air was soon filled by the ominous noise, and a light—an odd, unnatural light—suddenly illuminated the forest for a brief moment. Holly looked up, recognizing the sound for what it was. She cursed under her breath. It was a ship, and it definitely wasn't Captain Kelp with Retrieval One—their ship sounded a lot different on approach. Someone else was joining the nighttime soiree, and they certainly weren't there to see the sights. A gust of wind howled through the skeleton of the old ruins, and in the open space beyond, between it and the forest, something large shimmered into existence as it settled down for a landing. Holly could not see it from where she was, but Talbot, who was propped up against one of the stone pillars, answered her most pressing question. He did so with a devilish grin.

"I told you that I have powerful friends, remember?"

 _Oh d'arvit!_ Holly realized what was happening at that moment—why Talbot was there, why he was so confident, and, more than anything, what he had been waiting for. Without another thought Holly shot the pixie several times, knocking him out with that haunting grin still on his face. She left him were he lay, and rushed towards one of the windows, crouching low while her eyes searched for motion. When she arrived at the opening, she leaned against the stone wall and readied her neutrino. Then, after steeling herself, she glanced carefully into the night.

Out in the grassy field before the woods, settling among the grass with its engines still running, was a fairy shuttle, and Holly recognized it immediately. It was a Zephyr II—albeit heavily modified—an experimental assault ship designed by the Atlantis company, _Nuada_ , to bid for the position as the LEP's standard shuttle. The ship had been one of the most advanced and capable vessels in existence, but its price and complexity made it less attractive to the government, which opted for the simpler, more cost-effective ships they used presently. Project Zephyr was abandoned ten years ago, back when Holly was still in the academy, and all of the fifteen prototype models were supposedly scrapped. _I guess they missed one…_ Holly thought as she discreetly regarded it. It was a very impressive ship, fitted with stealth tech, supersonic capabilities, heavy armaments, large crew capacity, and even the ability to function underwater. It's black, sleek design was even more intimidating in the night, and every line that formed it was designed to give it a threatening, swift, predatory look. No one should have had one, and to have one meant that it was illegally acquired, likely through the black market. Holly knew that she was up against another class of criminal; one depraved enough to appeal to Talbot.

The side doors of the ship opened noiselessly, and when shadowed figures started to disembark Holly crouched down again, her neutrino clutched readily and her face contorted by an expression of complete seriousness. Where one earth was Retrieval One? Backup should have arrived by now! Holly decided to risk contacting headquarters, but when she activated her communicator all she got was static. _What the hell?!_ That wasn't supposed to happen, not with Foaly's tech at least. And yet it had, leaving Holly cut off from the world, bereft of support. The ship must have been jamming her signals.

Abandoning her attempt to make contact, the elf focused on listening. The ship had powered down, and the night had taken over once more, leaving only the wind and the sound of crickets in the air. Slowly and surely, from that steady cacophony came the unnatural report of footfalls. There were many, at least ten sets, and despite the extreme danger of the situation Holly took another fleeting glance. Outside, illuminated by the moonlight, stood twelve fairies, all armed to the teeth and looking about warily. At their forefront was a tall elf, bearing the countenance of a leader. He had black hair, emerald green eyes, and skin so pale that it glowed in the moonlight. He had a rugged, handsome face, lined by a few scars and displaying an expression that made Holly very uneasy—he looked familiar, but she could not quite remember why. A long black coat covered his tall figure, and held professionally in his hands was what looked like an LEP pulse rifle. He stopped a few dozen meters from the church entrance, as did his subordinates. With that chilling expression he looked left and right, and then spoke with a loud, commanding voice.

"Code word, _Devana_. You can come out now, Talbot. You're among friends."

 _Great, just what I need,_ Holly thought as she hid behind the stone wall. What had she gotten herself into? A proper mess, surely, though there was no changing that now. She could do nothing but wait.

The group of armed fairies waited in silence for a full minute, a few lighting cigarettes to pass the time, and when Talbot did not show himself to them, their leader shifted on his feet, but did not move any closer.

"Talbot, are you in there? This is your final chance to answer us. Otherwise the deal is terminated, as are you."

Again, no answer came. This time the elf frowned slightly, his green eyes narrowing into a subtle but perceptive glare; he switched off the safety on his pulse rifle, powering it up to its maximum setting. "So be it…" He motioned to the others, who began to approach the structure with their weapons raised, all without a word. Holly could hear their approach, and she could tell that they were very organized, advancing in a methodical manner that bespoke a significant degree of military experience. And she was up against twelve of them. Not the best odds when she only had a pistol and a broken helmet, whilst they had assault rifles and a gunship. _I'll have to make it count,_ she thought, switching her blaster to automatic and bringing it to its highest non-lethal setting. Then, once more, she waited.

It was an intense moment of motionlessness, waiting inside a stone skeleton of the past as foes—whose identities were as nebulous as darkness itself—closed in with killing intent. Holly could feel her heart hammering in her chest, beating like a drum, and her whole body was rigid with energy, ready to spring into action. She had to wait, despite her natural inclination to do something, anything, other than remaining static—it was terrible, waiting on doom itself, like standing on a beach before a rapidly approaching tsunami, incapable of outrunning its crushing waves. But if she did anything rash, anything to expose herself, she could very well end up murdered like Finn. She had no illusions: these people would kill her without a moment's hesitation. Patience saved lives in dark times like this, not hardcore recklessness.

Holly held her breath as they came closer, not out of fear but out of experience. She could hear their breathing, their whispers, their careful footfalls upon the grass, and the faint hum of their charged laser weapons. They were so close, no more than ten meters away. Holly prepared herself for the inevitable, ready to rise up and open fire, but suddenly, out of nowhere, a voice split the night air, coming from behind the group of fairies.

"Belenos! We've got ourselves a problem!"

All of the fairies stopped in their tracks, as did Holly before she could ambush them. She hunkered down and waited again. She could hear someone running into the clearing. _Make that thirteen targets…_

"You should remember to call me by my rank, private," the lead elf, Belenos, said coolly. "Now, what is it?"

The other fairy was very uneasy, judging by his voice. "A pair of wings, sir, left out in the woods. They're the latest LEP variant, and they're still warm."

Belenos muttered something under his breath, and then spoke louder. "Recon. It has to be. Old beetroot must have been on Talbot's tail like a bloodhound…the fool of a pixie did not adequately cover his trail…"

"His officer should still be here," another fairy, a goblin, growled. "Can't get far without wings."

"Indeed, he must," Belenos said smoothly, as if the presence of an LEP recon officer were inconsequential to him.

It was at that precise moment that one of the fairies, a goblin dressed in heavily modified LEP combat armor, peered through the main entrance with his lidless gaze. His crimson eyes seemed to automatically seek out Holly, who was crouched to his right beneath the window, and when they locked with hers they were filled with surprise, and then killing intent. He opened his mouth to say something, his tongue flicking out in excitement.

Holly, at that very moment, threw all caution into the wind. With a rapidity that her opponent could not match, she raised her neutrino and shot the goblin square in the face, knocking him backwards. The goblin had had his finger on his rifle's trigger, and when he fell it went off, spraying red laser bolts all over the place. All hell broke loose a second later.

"D'arvit, inside the ruins!" one of the fairies yelled.

Everyone was startled, but they were quick to raise their weapons and open fire, laying down an intense fusillade of death upon the already crumbling ruins. Laser bolts and neutrino charges filled the air, peppering the stone walls and blasting off chunks that turned into screaming sprays of sharp rock. Holly covered her head and gritted her teeth as hundreds of shots poured through the window above her. She could feel the heat of their passage, and it was close, too close—if she even knelt up a little she would lose her head. So, in light of this, she decided to roll to the other side, giving herself a view out the main doorway, where the shots were not being fired due to the unconscious goblin that lay there. She was immediately greeted by the sight of three fairies—two dwarfs and one gnome—and she fired on them without hesitation, dropping two in half a second while the third dodged to the side. She was quick to roll back and hide, avoiding retaliation, but when she thought she had cover she saw a shadow above her, looming upon the upper heights of the ancient stonework. It was a pixie, clearly marked by his wings, and he opened fire the moment she looked upwards.

Holly swore under her breath, throwing herself in between two of the pillars. Laser bolts careened past her, melting stone and casting everything in a hellish glare, painting the darkness with a mingling blood-red. There was no respite either. The moment the pixie compromised her location, others took up positions outside the windows, and in unison they opened fire, peppering the interior of the ruins with searing death. It was all Holly could do to avoid getting shot. It was living hell, being so trapped amongst stone and decay, surrounded by murderous assailants.

 _This just gets better and better,_ the elf thought cynically as a spray of laser bolts tore apart the pillar next to her, sending it crashing down. The noise was horrendous, and the constant light show of the shots was disorienting. Holly could still focus in spite of this, but she had nowhere to go. _D'arvit, what do I do?!_ she thought, glaring constantly and feeling her options draining away with the seconds she gave her enemies to flank her. It was then that she noticed Finn's neutrino, which had been knocked on the ground during the previous struggle; it was touching her leg, and it was perfectly functional. She grabbed it in her left hand, regarded it for a moment, and then powered it up to match her other blaster. Better two guns than one. She then began to return fire, shooting madly at the well-covered assailants. An intense gunfight ensued.

Outside, standing in the same spot as before, the elf named Belenos watched the display with a very faint expression, the undulations of his countenance betraying little of his innermost feelings. His rifle was still in his hands, but he seemed assured of his security; he was one who could judge a situation and determine such things with ease. All he did was watch, his face a constant mask of stoicism, and then finally, after a few minutes, he spoke.

"What an unnecessary debacle…"

Behind him stood one of his subordinates—a pixie—who had just come from the idling ship. "Major, our sensors are detecting a launch from Tara. It appears to be an LEP ship."

"A retrieval team most likely," Belenos replied, looking at the starry night sky without interest. Then he looked down at the old ruins, the blue of the LEP officer's neutrino shots glinting in his eyes. "Not half bad, that one, holding his own like that. A few of the inexperienced ones got hit as well. That will have consequences."

The pixie at his shoulder nodded, looking only slightly nervous despite the battle before him and the approaching threat of an LEP retrieval team.

"Have everyone pull back," Belenos continued, as calm as ever. "We have no time for this ridiculous spectacle. Let the _Astaroth_ deal with the rest."

"Yes sir."

The squad of armed fairies received the word and, after suppressing Holly with a barrage of deadly fire, began to withdraw in an orderly fashion. They removed their wounded first, a total of four having been knocked out by Holly's shots, and then moved back to the tree line, where the ship—named the _Astaroth_ —was idling readily. When everyone was withdrawn, Belenos nodded to the pilot who was waiting behind the blacked-out window of the gunship. The decisive order was given.

Back inside the ruins, Holly was leaning with her back against one of the pillars, breathing steadily and holding two steaming neutrinos. Smoke curled in the air around her, and the impact marks of laser shots riddled everything around her, glowing slightly as the molten stone began to cool. When she heard the sound of the _Astaroth_ begin to take off, she stood a little straighter and peered around the pillar. She saw no one where there had been assailants before, and this led her to several competing conclusions. Perhaps they were withdrawing, having decided that she was not worth their effort. Or, more likely, Retrieval One was inbound, forcing the unknown attackers to retreat. Holly opted for the latter, but when she peered out the window to see the departing ship, she realized that they were doing anything leaving. The intimidating Zephyr-class ship was hovering twenty meters off the ground in front of her, and some of its forward weapons were deployed to fire—six eight-barreled laser cannons began to rotate a second later. At that moment, Holly could not help but stare blankly at the sight before her and speak with a deadpan tone. "Well…shit..."

If the last five minutes of constant shooting had been a fusillade, what happened next was a veritable deluge. All six of the guns fired at once, at a rate of ten-thousand rounds per minute each, pouring a stream of solid crimson down upon the crumbing ruins. Despite all of her training, Holly was filled with fear upon seeing—and hearing the monstrous noise—of the doom raining down upon her. She ran for her life like one possessed, and she screamed, with the utmost determination, for her legs to take her faster. The laser fire tore into the stone foundations of the ruins, obliterating pillars and decimating the walls as if they were made of paper. Stone—in both solid and melted states—showered all over like leafs in a heavy gale, and the very ground shook as if afflicted by a quake. In mere seconds, that which had braved centuries of the elements was completely undone, very much like the fall of the seemingly invincible Roman Empire. It came down as Holly ran through it, and she had no idea how she did not get killed then and there. Everything was being torn apart, and lasers shots were all around her. She could not go very further in such a torrent of death, and in the middle of the structure she dove for cover, hiding behind the feeble protection of a crumbled pillar. But only when she had just hunkered down, she noticed the still form of Talbot a few meters away, in the open and surrounded by crumbling rock. Holly stared at him, and was then caught in the web of a dilemma. If she did nothing, he would surely die.

 _I spent my career saving creatures. You must do the same…_

Holly bit her lip as laser charges screamed overhead, undoing the stone pillars above the unconscious pixie.

 _Forgiveness, not hatred, is what will save this world…_

Her mother's words came to her as loud as the roar of the gunfire, with their fiery clarity burning through her fear, and by their weight her decision was made in an instant. It was an interesting thing, how her very heart was empowered and all of her fear and doubt evaporated. How memories of the past could ignite a profound courage in the present! How the words of others, even departed, could sway those who still remained on their mortal coil.

Holly launched herself into the storm of death, growling a number of curses as she did so, and even though Talbot was only a few meters away it felt like the distance was many times that. It was ridiculous, running into the fray to save the life of a murderer, but it was the right thing to do. Holly knew that, despite all of her anger and hate towards that pixie, she owed it to herself—and her mother—to save his life. She would not have someone's death on her conscience, no matter who they were.

"D'arvit, d'arvit, d'arvit!" she screamed as she knelt by the pixie and began to drag him. The remaining stonework was providing her some cover, but not enough. One laser charge brushed against her shoulder, melting through her suit and burning her skin. Being in the middle of dragging her foe to safety, she could only grit her teeth and keep going, even though her arm was filled with pain. She dragged the convict through hell on earth, all the while hoping that she would make it. Her refuge, constantly crumbling, was only a few meters away. And yet those few meters were like a marathon! She would have preferred to drag the damned pixie across a mountain range instead of this! It was madness, but she kept trying, braving the death that whirled all around her. Stone collapsed to all sides of her, giving way to the deluge of laser shots, but they held just long enough for Holly to reach her cover. There she hunched down, keeping herself above the unconscious pixie. Even though he was her enemy, she would protect him. She would save him, just as her mother would want her to.

It was only a few seconds later that the rest of the old church's superstructure gave out completely, cracking and shattering against the might of the attack. Holly looked up and, seeing the stone coming down towards her, set her jaw and prepared for the inevitable. It loomed above her, blotting out the starry sky, hiding the moon that outlined its monstrosity in silver, and then it was upon her, crashing down with a deafening noise. Holly, being tucked away in a cave-like ruin of the pillar she had hidden within, did not believe for a second that she would die at that moment. But the fear was still there, pervasive and primal, riding up on the waves of irrational terror as the earth shook and as fragments of stone bombarded her in stinging volleys. The moonlight was instantly cut off, drowning her with darkness, and the entire world was obscured by this blackness alongside a cloud of smothering dust. Through it all Holly waited, unable to move, unable to even scream. She was trapped, and how familiar was that feeling!

The collapse lasted for what felt like minutes, but it was only a few seconds, time itself seeming to bend in the elf's perception. Holly heard the settling of the stone, and felt none of the crushing pain that she had expected. She opened her eyes and looked around, and saw nothing but darkness; a terrifying, complete darkness. It was hard not to cough with so much dust in the air, and she did, in a series of fits, but after it had settled she was able to collect herself enough to try and move. Her head lifted a little, and bluntly encountered immovable stone. "D'arvit!" she cursed, feeling a bruise already developing. Then she tried to move her limbs, only to find that her right leg was caught just barely beneath the stone. Her arms were free, but they could find nothing, not even her neutrino, that could be of use. Again she cursed, though at the same time she felt enormous relief. Had those stones fallen any differently, she would be in a lot of pain at the moment. _That was close…_ She felt around beneath her, noting that Talbot was there, alive and relatively unscathed. _Good…_

A noise suddenly came to her ears, and it was not muffled either. This drew her eyes upward, and she felt the faintest breeze, the coolest touch of the fresh night air; it came to her in the stuffy confines of her rocky prison, breathing hope into her darkness. With the dust settled and her eyes adjusted, she could see an opening only a foot above, large enough to fit through. Beyond were the stars, glittering brilliantly in the vastness of the firmament, free of the troubles that assailed her. She stared at them, feeling all the more trapped and lonely due to being so close and yet so separated from the world. _This was what it was like…_

The sound of footsteps suddenly came to her ears, along with the more distant sound of a ship. Holly wished that it was Trouble and his team, but she did not speak due to the possibility of the opposite. There was no way of her checking either, with all her equipment gone or damaged. Even her neutrino was out of reach, crushed under stone, just out of reach of her right hand. She had nothing, and in that state of helplessness she listened as the footsteps got louder, closer, and more distinct. A shadow suddenly loomed in the opening, framed by moonlight, and when it got closer she saw that it was the same elf as before, the one who was in charge of her assailants. Caught as she was, Holly felt her heart in her throat. If only she had a weapon!

Belenos knelt down to look at her, and his cold eyes were unsettling to behold, so filled with callousness and calculation—and a subtle, almost imperceptible darkness. He had a laser pistol in his hand, and it was aimed right at her head, only a foot from touching her skin. Holly could feel its warmth and the tingle of its primed charge; she could feel death right there, but a finger's pull away. Yet in spite of all of this, she stared into his eyes and did not say a word. She silently challenged him, refusing to give up, denying him the satisfaction of seeing her beg. Out of all the things she could have done, she decided to be strong, even though her heart was rightfully filled with fear.

They stared at each other for a few intense seconds, the silence of the night and the faint breeze between them. Holly knew that this elf was older, around her mother's age, but that was it. She did not know why his name and face were familiar. It was close in her memory, on the very edge of recollection, and yet she could not put her finger on it; out of reach, like a prize behind clear yet impenetrable glass. The other, however, only gazed at her, his blaster leveled and his face showing none of his intentions; his eyes were the sort that murderers developed, and there was no question as to his ability to kill in cold blood. For a moment Holly thought he would kill her, but all of the sudden his face changed, though only slightly, like the faint mutations of clouds on a windless night. He stared at her for a few seconds, a slight amount of surprise showing on his otherwise impassive features, and then he smiled a faint but genuine smile, as if bearing witness to a subtle inside joke. It was not threatening, but rather the sort one may get when they see something from long ago, something from a past that was no more; something they thought they'd never see again. Then, without a word, he left, leaving Holly alone within her prison of crumbled stone, unharmed despite how easy it would have been for him to kill her. Holly stared as he disappeared from view, not believing for a second that he was done with her. And yet, a minute later, nothing changed. Her enemy was gone, leaving her to fight another day. She continued to gaze into the sky, at the stars and the gloom, listening for anything beyond the song of crickets. A moment later the sound of a departing ship echoed in the night, and then nothing.

Only when this nothingness took over did Holly release the breath she had been unconsciously holding. Her heart was hammering fiercely, and her body was rigid with the desire to escape, but she could not move. Her stupor—a product of the unexpected events—was quickly shattered by this entrapment. _I have to get out of this!_ She started pulling her trapped leg, knowing that it was not crushed and therefore had a chance of slipping through. Gritting her teeth and growling determinedly, she tugged and tugged, and after a minute she felt her foot begin to move. It was a slight movement, but with each pull it got larger, and then, all of the sudden, she was free. She paused for a few seconds after that, listening for any movements in the stone. None could be heard, thank the gods. Death seemed to be always but a hair's breadth away, and yet she had yet to touch it that night.

It was easy enough to climb out into the open after this, and Holly did so carefully, even though every fiber of her being was screaming for her to scramble madly out of the confined space. When she was out she found that she was standing alone in the valley, with only the crickets and wind keeping her company. She breathed the fresh air with relief, but all too soon her mind got back on track, focusing on the matter at hand. A quick check of her equipment yielded nothing—her communicator had been fried, likely by the enemy ship's electronic warfare capabilities. _Bastards were well equipped…_ Looking back into the hole, she decided to retrieve her original objective.

"You're about as heavy as I expected," she growled as she pulled the motionless pixie out of the rubble. She laid him down a few feet from the opening, where a flat slab of stone provided decent support. There she knelt over the convict, checking his vitals and ensuring that he had no broken limbs. Surprisingly, he was in better shape than she was, and unlike her he had been spared the majority of the hellish events that had taken place. Holly eyed him with disdain, even though she was glad he was alive. There was a duality to her heart at that moment, her fury and her morality exchanging blows within the halls of her very soul; her hatred was like a river of molten rock, while her sense of goodness was a deluge of cooling water. They would go on like that for a while, such was the rawness of the whole ordeal, and in spite of this tempestuous weather within, she decided to focus her mind on what had just happened, and _why_.

There were many questions, all floating around in the turbulent expanse of her analytical mind, but the answers were few among them, like a smattering of clouds in a clear sky, evasive in the high winds. However, she could easily guess, and she did know that Talbot had been intent on linking up with her attackers. Her immediate deduction was that they had contacted him in prison, perhaps recruited him as many extremist groups did to those who were locked away without hope for a good future. Maybe everything that he had done—including his murdering of Finn—had been part of a bizarre initiation, a trial that would gain him a position among the others. It certainly made sense, and as Holly thought about it she nudged the unconscious pixie with her boot. Too bad he was not awake—she was very good at getting answers from people who wanted to keep their teeth in their mouths. In the end she sat down next to him, leaning against a stone block and taking a much needed breather. Everything that had happened was plain unsettling.

Only a minute had passed when Holly looked up out of instinct, and sure enough she heard—and then saw—the approach of an LEP shuttle. It materialized out of the night air, becoming visible in the moonlight as it flew overhead, and it began to descend for a landing roughly one-hundred feet away from where Holly was sitting. "Well, it's about time," she said to herself, before looking down at Talbot. _I can finally get this sack of troll droppings off my hands…_ She unceremoniously picked the unconscious murderer up, carrying him on her back—he was heavy, but not _that_ heavy—and in that manner she walked towards the landing ship.

When she was halfway to the grassy clearing the ship had landed on, its side doors opened to allow a fully-armed retrieval team to disembark, among them being Captain Trouble Kelp, the leader of the esteemed squad. They were quick and efficient, most of them clearing the landing site and establishing a defensive position while a smaller detachment rushed to Holly's aid. Trouble was in the smaller group, and when he got nearer Holly he spoke out with great concern.

"Captain Short, are you alright?"

Holly was still approaching him and his team members, her face displaying a cross expression. She only nodded.

"Something was jamming our connection to you, it delayed the signals," Trouble continued. "We had no idea what was happening until Foaly zeroed in one of his satellites, but even then there was heavy distortion from an unknown source." He paused, looking around at the ruins and all of the burn marks that covered the fallen stone. "What in Frond's name happened here?"

Holly was in no mood for taking flak for something that she had no control over, and she answered curtly. "I have a few ideas, but to be honest I have no idea who those bastards were."

"You'll need to fill us in as soon as possible," the other said. "The Commander will want to look into this, certainly…" He paused, furrowing his brow as he noticed the motionless body on Holly's back. "What are you carrying?"

"My objective," Holly growled. Then, with a promptness that was very characteristic of her, she dropped the unconscious pixie down on the ground in front of Trouble, before standing straight and giving him a fixed expression. "The fugitive has been apprehended, though it took a little more effort than I expected."

Trouble stared down at the pixie, and looked up at Holly, a mixed expression on his face. "Looks a little worse for wear."

"Better than he deserves," Holly said coldly.

Trouble could not disagree with this. He too was very upset by what Talbot had done, though he hid it better, remaining in line with his orders and maintaining a dutiful countenance. "We'll take him from here," he said after a moment. "Another team is inbound to clean up this mess. We cannot leave such an evident warzone in the middle of these mountains, not with all the humans who come through during the day." Trouble paused as two of his officers dragged Talbot between them towards the ship. "Anyway, you should head back to Tara. A ship is waiting to take you to Haven. The Commander will debrief you immediately upon your arrival."

Holly could only nod, even though internally she was perturbed by the prospect of recounting everything to her superior. No doubt Root would find a reason to give her hell, and perhaps even discharge her from recon. It was a terrible thought, but it made sense to her after the debacle she had been involved in. The one thing that eased her worry a little was the fact that she had not been wearing her helmet for most of the fight, and thus not recording her unorthodox methods, which would have certainly won her a few strings of expletive-riddled chastisement. There was no changing any of this, and so, after her initial concern, she decided to go along with it, facing whatever the future may hold.

She left Trouble and his team in the valley, using another pair of wings—her attackers had kindly stolen her original set. The night was still young, and the world was beautiful, yet all Holly could see were the shadows, all lurking beneath her in the nooks and crannies of the countryside. This was a product of the ominous nature of that night's events, for such terrible experiences tinged the mind and cast a darker veil over one's perception, temporarily at least. Holly could not shake the feeling that her entrapment had given—the helplessness before a murderous foe—and as she skimmed over trees and rivers she thought, morbidly, about her own mortality. Life, even for those as strong as her, was such a fragile thing, as easy to undo as a simple thread. Clotho may spin that thread, and Lachesis may measure it, but it is Atropos, that imperceptible master of fate, that severs it with her callous sheers. Holly knew that that her life had been between those cutting edges, ready to be sliced off and cast into oblivion. And yet something had stayed those blades. Something beyond her knowledge, held just outside recollection's enlightening touch, had saved her life.


	9. Laconus

**Haven Terminal, Chute E1**

Some would say that everything happens for a reason, while others, disillusioned by their experiences, would simply yield to the fact that many things are but the product of chance, occurring for no explicit reason at all; both tragedy and triumph, at times, are nothing more than the impartial allotments of fate, casts of impartial dice. It would seem, ultimately, that these reasons are relative to those who contrive them, for it is by that intense afterthought, that cogitation of the past, that a rational being finds explanation in the confusing happenings of life. Just as a castaway, having found the welcome sands of an unknown shore, will gaze back upon the deadly waters that were his prison, so too do all living beings look back on their darkest hours, in wonder and awe, searching for purpose amidst the madness.

Holly Short sat in the compartment of an LEP shuttle doing exactly this, wondering about what had transpired and trying to deduce what may happen next; a soup of possibilities and drawn connections churned in her head. Taken from Tara on a priority flight, she was due to arrive in Haven within a few minutes, though for her the passage of time was imperceptible whilst she was so caught up in her thoughts. Only when the ship ceased moving, and the pilot spoke to her from the front, did she awaken from this intense analysis. She looked up, her face drawn by weariness and her eyes, awake despite her body's combat withdrawal, seeing through to the turmoil in her heart. She stood up slowly, retreating from her thoughts and entering the present. Her recon gear was still on, its surface covered by scratches and scorch marks, and her face was still dirtied by mud, sweat, a traces of blood. She did not care about her appearance, not now, for to be alive was enough for her at the moment. With a measured haste she left the ship, stepping out into the heat of the hangar, temporarily leaving the haunting trains of thought behind.

It was her intention to return to headquarters and give a full report to her commander in person—and hopefully get some answers as well. Surely Commander Root, with all of his years of experience in the upper ranks of the LEP, would know something about the enemy who had held her life in his hands and, despite his dark inclinations, spared it. She was determined to have answers, no matter what.

Holly had only just disembarked when she noticed a shuttle landing in the spot next to the one she had traveled on. It was a smaller ship, but it bore the markings of an executive transport, the sort that high-ranking officers used for official and sometimes unofficial business. She regarded it curiously, aware that it was one of the ones usually stationed at headquarters. But when its door opened, and a figure appeared through it, she dropped her quizzical expression and stood at attention. Commander Julius Root looked down upon her, his face a mask of stone and his mouth, curved downwards into a serious frown, showing his current mood.

"At ease Captain," he called out, not bothering to descend to her. "I am not here to simply evaluate your ability to stand at attention. Protocol can wait, as can everything else. Now get on."

Holly was surprised to say the least. It was rare that Root himself would come out to give an officer a ride to headquarters, especially Holly, whom he preferred to treat roughly and without preference. It was clear, as evident as a mountain on a flat plain, that something of paramount importance had arisen. She knew that it was connected to the events that had occurred topside; it had to be! Keeping a dutiful countenance—because she did not want to look as troubled as she really was—Holly ascended the steps and entered Root's personal transport. It was spacious despite being a compact vessel, and upon entering Holly was ushered to the rear of the compartment, where several seats were situated in a private area. There was no one else in the ship save the pilot, who did not even look at them as they passed by. Once seated in the rear, Holly sensed an air of complete privacy, as if everything that was said in there would not be heard by anyone, not even Foaly with all of his clever machinations. Truly, if anyone knew how to maintain complete security, it was Julius. He may have been an old officer, but he was no fool.

Once they were seated, the ship lifted off and passed through the gates into Haven itself, flying over the metropolis towards the downtown core. Meanwhile, inside the compartment, there was no sound at all, not even that of the engines. It was perfectly quiet, and Holly sat there, waiting on her superior. She dared not say anything first.

Root sat in a relaxed fashion, but his features were anything but at ease. As the ship lifted off, he reached into his pocket and retrieved a fungus cigar, which he lit after crushing one end between his teeth. After breathing in slowly, he took the cigar out and held it between his fingers, whilst exhaling a ghostly pall of smoke into the otherwise clean air. He spoke stoically, though with a slight edge to his words.

"This is some very serious business you have gotten yourself involved in, Captain."

Holly looked at her commander and, unable to resist her perceptive thoughts' temptations, spoke expectantly. "You know who we are dealing with."

Julius took another puff from the cigar, all the while gazing off into an invisible distance, clearly caught up in remembering the past. There was a subtle discomfort in his expression, the sort that unpleasant memories, unearthed, would give rise to. "All too well," he finally said, his words spoken out with swirls of smoke.

There was a short silence between them, in which Root furrowed his brow and continued to think. Then he spoke again, twice as serious as before. "What I am going to tell you was officially erased from the LEP's archives one-hundred years ago. It never happened as far as HIGHCOM is concerned, and we want to keep it that way."

"Why?" Holly asked.

Root looked her in the eye, his own mirroring an intense conviction. "You must swear to complete silence on this matter. You are to speak of it with no one. Am I making myself clear?"

Remembering her position, Holly nodded and spoke respectfully. "Yes sir."

This seemed good enough for Root, as he nodded and resumed his gazing into an oblivion before him. "Now, as to your question about _why_ this matter is such a guarded secret…" Taking his cigar in his hand, freeing it from his teeth, he exhaled a ghostly cloud, one that temporarily obscured his fierce expression in a swirling haze. "Some things are best to be forgotten by those who do not need to know, and just as equally, never known in the first place. Though, there are always a few who must bear the weight of the memory, should its subject resurface, as in this case it has. We cannot change what happened, but the powers that be wanted it covered up as effectively as possible, for the greater good…"

As she listened, Holly said not a word. She remained attentive to her commander's every word, not by her obligation to hear him out, but by her intense curiosity and fiery determination to know the truth.

"Besides the council," Root continued, "only Commander Raine Vinyáya and myself are privy to this knowledge." He paused, his brow furrowing as if he was hesitant to reveal something to her. This hesitation did not last long, however, as by reason he decided to go through with it. "There used to be more, many more, who knew of it. All of them had their memories voluntarily wiped for security purposes, all but one who happened to be instrumental in our success during that dark time." Again, there was a pause, and this time he looked at her, and held her gaze with his fierce brown eyes. Though Holly could not see, there was sympathy in them. "That one was your mother, Coral Short."

Even if Holly had prepared herself for such a revelation, she would have still failed to maintain her composure. The mention of her mother, connected to a matter like this unbeknownst to her, was as unexpected as what had happened on the surface. Holly said nothing to this shocking truth, but rather stared, mouth slightly open, in wondering awe. Commander Root, reading her honest expression, spoke with a measured tone.

"She never told you, did she?"

Holly shook her head, mute in her astonishment. At this very same moment, the shuttle came to a landing in the hangar bay of the LEP's headquarters, and this was made evident in the silent compartment by the sudden opening of it side door and the distant cacophony of the world beyond. Neither Holly nor Root moved, the latter eyeing her thoughtfully. He nodded a second later and stood up, but never did he take his eyes from her.

"Then it is about time you were filled in, Captain," he said. "After all, you are now part of this old struggle, whether you like it or not."

He turned towards the door, and Holly followed. Fate, in whatever form it may choose to take, waited in the world beyond.

 **Commander Root's Office, Lower Elements Police Headquarters**

The relatively large office that Commander Root resided in was a place that Holly remembered well. She could recall what it had been like all those months ago, entering the sacrosanct room for the first time for her initiation into recon. She could envision with perfect clarity what had transpired then, on that decisive day, when she had been on the tipping point between her vexatious life as a traffic officer and the exhilarating, uncertain life that her dreams pulled her towards. Now, entering it for the first time since then, she felt it all come to her and go just as quick. There was no time for rumination, nostalgia, or any other form of such thinking. The matter at hand called upon all her attention, and she focused accordingly.

The room was well lit, though the window was blacked out and all entrances sealed. Nothing and no one could see or hear what was happening in there, and not even Foaly—who did not have the clearance to take part—could eavesdrop on the two elves who sat down opposite each other, one at his desk and the other before it. It was awkward, being taken into Root's confidence on this matter, and Holly could not help but feel out of place. Not too long ago the commander had been against a female even being in his office, and yet now he was trusting her with confidential information that only a handful of others were given the privilege—or _burden_ , as Root would say—of knowing. It was an odd day, but so too had been the night before. Everything was different now. What really struck her the most at the moment was the mention of her mother. Coral's connection to the issue made it all the more intriguing, and also ominous. What ghosts from Coral's past had come forth, now to haunt her daughter? All this she kept to herself.

"We are much more secure here than in the briefing room," Commander Root said gruffly as he sat down. "What I am about to say stays here, and never leaves but inside your memory. Again, I hope I am being clear."

To this Holly nodded. She desperately wanted him to carry on.

"I would have you recount the events of your mission, Captain, but first I want to show you something." He pressed a few buttons on his desk's computer and activated a small holographic projector, which came to life and immediately conjured an image of a familiar face. "Are you at all familiar with this elf?"

Holly recognized the elf the moment his face appeared. It was the one she had encountered topside, the one who called himself Belenos. In this image he looked younger, his face and eyes yet to be twisted by that subtle darkness that Holly had seen in the night. It was interesting to behold that slight difference, but Holly did not forget her commander's question. She nodded silently, and then spoke with some of her rightful disdain seeping into her words. "I saw him on the surface, where Talbot had fled."

"And you are absolutely certain?" Julius asked, leaning forward.

"I would bet my life on it. Those are the same eyes he had. I cannot forget what I saw in them up there."

As if being told of some terrible storm on the horizon, Commander Root nodded solemnly, his expression a mixture of bitterness and wariness. He turned off the projection, having never looked it in the eye—he had shunned it, as if he was tired of its very existence—and then folded his hands before him on his desk. "His name is Belenos Æthelryth. An elf of extraordinary ability, he used to be a good friend of mine."

Holly furrowed her brow, and then spoke respectfully. "Permission to speak freely, sir."

"Granted."

"How does this relate to my mother?"

"I will get to that, rest assured," Root replied. "First, I want to hear your report. Tell me everything."

This was what Holly was expecting, and so when she was finally asked she did so without hesitation. She recounted everything that had transpired during her mission, down to the small details that, being only hours ago, were still fresh in her memory like morning dew before the sunrise. It was her intention to give the report in a stoic manner, as one should to a superior officer, but as she carried on through the hardest parts, where she had been nearly killed, it was hard not to glare out of sheer anger towards those who had tried to take her life. Root didn't seem to mind this, however, and as she spoke he listened intently, betraying nothing apart from an occasional frown or narrowing of the eyes. When she was finished, Holly sat back in her chair, collecting herself—for to revisit such trauma was tiring—while waiting for her commander to speak.

"That eliminates all doubt," Root finally said after a long silence. "There is no questioning it anymore. That's him alright." Then, sotto voce to himself. "It's just like the old days…" He looked Holly in the eye after that, his expression grave. "I will tell you what all of this is about, including what I once heard from your mother regarding the matter. Bear with me, I will not condense it for the sake of your comfort. This is far too important to abbreviate."

To this, all Holly did was nod.

"Major Belenos Æthelryth," Root continued, "that used to be his title, when he was in the LEP. That was long ago, before what we refer to as the _Laconus Incident_. I mean it when I say he was one of the best officers we ever had. I am sure you have seen his surname in the academy records a few times at least."

"I have," Holly admitted, only now remembering. In the long list of officers who had received honors over their careers, she had seen _Æthelryth_ numerous times, including on the list of recipients for one of the awards her mother posthumously received. It struck her how, not long ago, she had looked over that name and thought nothing of it apart from respect. Now she knew that, in her ignorance back then, she had been looking at the name of an enemy, unaware of its gravity. Just as one who does not grasp the workings of nature gazes appreciatively upon a roiling mass of clouds, not seeing the danger in their charged undulations, so too had Holly looked something in the face and remained oblivious of its inner shadow. As Holly mused about this, Root continued. What he said captured her attention like an insect caught in tree sap.

"Belenos originally began his career in the LEPmarine, working as a research officer and conducting operations throughout the Atlantic. He worked alongside your mother, Coral Short, and she told me herself once that they were friends from long before that as well. You see, they grew up together…"

As Holly listened to this, she began to realize where her recognition of Belenos had its roots. It was faint, so distant in her memory, but just like stone uncovered by a flood so did the circumstances yield images from many years ago, when she was still a child. She remembered photographs her mother used to keep around, ones where that familiar face, bereft of its darkness, was clear. Those photos had been hidden away, out of view, but curiously enough they were well tended to, ever dusted from time to time, showing a duality of love and hate. There had also been mentions of him, brief and not very descriptive. Never had Coral brought up who he really was, nor did she tell Holly of what had happened. She did not want to burden her daughter with the ghosts of her past. Knowing this, Holly continued to listen, her mind working as all the pieces began to fall together.

"He worked in the LEPmarine for a number of decades, and one can attribute that amount of time to his change in behavior. Years of seeing the perfidy, the madness, the violence, and the shameless acts of humanity took their toll on him, making him despise the humans far more than most ever could. If I recall correctly, he was always vocal about King Frond's decision to hide beneath the surface, to give up the fight against the humans, but that was a common sentiment at the time. He spoke to Coral a lot about his anger, and as she recalled she felt for him, trying to help him cope with it. This he did, apparently, though I know now that he was simply hiding his fury behind a veneer of discipline." Root had taken out a cigar at this point, though he kept it unlit in his right hand as he spoke.

"Belenos left the LEPmarine after eighty years of exemplary service, transferring to the military branch of the Lower Elements Police. He started out as a commissioned officer, given his experience, and from that point onward he set record after record for performance and progress. It took him only three months to gain acceptance into recon, despite being almost twice the age of most of the other applicants, and in a year's time he had sixty flawless operations under his belt. I worked with him regularly, and I am honest when I say that I have never seen anyone so committed to their work. He was driven, though at the time I did not know by what."

As with all rational creatures, the motivations that serve as soil from which actions can grow are rarely crystalline to the outward observer. One may know another well, but the true contents of a heart can never be measured perfectly. There is always something, be it a seed of darkness or light, that escapes us, only to rise forth without our knowledge and become whole before anything can be done. Such is the growth of ambitions and evils alike in the veiled hearts of man and fairy; like the constant growth of a stalagmite, hidden from all in a dark realm of stone and stale air.

Commander Root was smooth and constant in his speech. He had not paused at all for the latter part. "A decade later, having become the finest recon officer in the force, Belenos was promoted to the rank of major. He soon joined retrieval, and formed his own elite team of special forces operatives, conducting missions on the surface on a regular basis. Again, his record was flawless, but that changed some time later, when we should have begun to see his true motivations." The Commander lit his cigar, its ember glow and swirls of smoke creating a competing mixture of light and obscurity around him. "There was an incident on the surface during a routine operation, in which Belenos shot and killed a total of seventeen unarmed humans. Under the circumstances it was protocol to stun them and wipe their memories, but Belenos reported that his weapon malfunctioned and only discharged lethal amounts of energy. As you can guess, this led to quite a mess in the upper chain of command; it was a potentially a scandal of the likes the LEP had never seen. That was why they covered it up, for image's sake. The Council dealt with Belenos, and though the investigation led them not to press any charges, he was still suspended for his obscene behavior in court and his lack of respect for the council, who he openly referred to as 'a lot of shit-spewing cowards.' He went back on duty after a year's suspension, supposedly having learned his lesson. At the time, he was too good of an officer to discharge permanently. He regained his position in the force, and continued his work."

The lights overheard accentuated the lines of Julius' face as his expression changed, becoming grave and, subtly, regretful. "No one, not even I, could have expected what occurred years later, though that is no excuse for what happened. Ever since the industrial revolution, humanity's pollution of the environment increased exponentially. It was horrendous, what human technology was doing, and Belenos took it very personally. He would often go out into the ocean, many times accompanying your mother—who was still good friends with him—on her research missions. He cared a lot for the wellbeing of nature, though part of this was because of his idea of it being sacred. To him, the world was the People's rightful inheritance, and the humans were defiling it. He became obsessive about the destruction, and grew worse and worse in his radical views. This was the groundwork for his ambitions."

Holly listened to this and could not help but compare this case to the one she knew so well, that of her mother. Coral, despite all of the horrors that humanity had caused, never let her hatred overcome her heart's forgiveness. She had said once that her enemy was not the humans, but rather their ignorance. Unlike Belenos, she had not fallen into a cycle of loathing and frustration. Her path was to keep on working, while being merciful on those who wronged her. That they had grown up together, and ended up on opposite paths, was quite a sad thing.

"Belenos became a major participant in the ultranationalist movement that, at the time, was quite strong," Commander Root continued. "The humans' industrial progress, as well as all of the destructive wars they were waging, inflamed such far-right sentiments, and Belenos used it to his advantage. He rose through their ranks, using his natural talents as a leader to gain power over the movement, and he was far more successful than anyone could have ever expected. In the end, to put it simply, his intention was to overrule the pacifistic administrations of the armed forces and the civilian government. He wanted to incite an uprising—preferably nonviolent—that would overturn the widely accepted policy of remaining hidden belowground. Using his influence over those who shared his view, he gained a foothold in the Council, the government itself, and within the ranks of the LEP. What he did next was openly challenge the leaders at that time to revise their policies and pursue an expansionist strategy; he did so with the backing of a significant percentage of the population, all of whom were under the sway of the horrors of the humans' actions. None of this was illegal, as he was using the existing channels of political involvement, but the problem was that his movement lacked the support necessary to truly sway our foreign policy."

"Much of the population also opposed his views, me being one of them. I appealed to him to rethink his ideology, but he did not. He was bent on rallying support for a mass extermination of humanity which, at the year 1885, would have been easy to accomplish with our technology. He took another slip down his slope of folly at this point. Knowing that legal procedures and popular movements were not enough to change the People's destiny to the imperial glory he had in mind, he began to plan for a more heavy-handed approach. With his influence throughout the LEP, he could easily rally a number of soldiers to his cause alongside those from the cultural enclaves that were loyal to him. He covertly rallied these forces and began to put together a strategy to take over the Lower Elements."

"A coup d'état," Holly said to herself, glaring slightly.

"Indeed," Root said gravely. "He planned to wipe out the current establishment, purge it of any pacifistic sentiments, and assume control over all military assets. Once he had sway over the armed forces, all else would follow. With that much power, he would be able to wage war against humanity. However…" He paused, glancing at his shortening cigar before stubbing it down in a tray. "There was only one flaw in his armor, as there always seems to be with mad fairies like him, and that was your mother. Having been childhood friends, she was his confidant and close ally. She saw his slow descent into radicalism, noticed the indicators, and knew that he was a danger to himself and the world. Around that time they had had a falling out, when she confronted him with this issue; during their argument Coral heard enough to be suspicious about his covert actions. She kept an eye on him, and because she knew him better than anyone else she was able to unearth the specifics of his activities, through a number of clever methods that, at the time, had yet to be taught in the academy. At that time, about a month before he was to make his move, Belenos had gathered to himself a large number of loyalists, many of them LEP officers and operatives from his special forces brigade. All of them were hardcore ultranationalists, and with them he formed his own private army, under the guise of a covert LEP branch called Section 12. This paramilitary group—really a sizable insurrectionist army masquerading as a legitimate force—was code named _Laconus_ , hence our naming of the incident. It was with this group of loyalists that Belenos would seize control. Coral blew the lid on the whole thing the moment she confirmed its real purpose, and that began the largest crisis in the People's history since the old wars. To be blunt, your mother revealed to us the potentiality of a civil war."

Root leaned back in his chair, looking upwards as he remembered those events, which for a hundred years had remained locked in his mind, behind an iron curtain. "That was the first time I met her in person, your mother. She approached me secretly, knowing that Belenos had informants within our ranks, and to be honest I had trouble believing her claims at first. But she had all the evidence, and despite my inclination to believe in the goodness of the People, I was forced to acknowledge our dark proclivities that all too closely mirror humanity's. I immediately contacted Vinyáya as well as the chief representatives of the government, alerting them of the insurrectionist plot. From that point onward we conducted a campaign of covert sting operations against Belenos' enclaves, rooting out his informants and detaining the military units that were loyal to him. Coral took part in this, despite my desire for her not to, and together we took down Belenos' key allies before they had enough power to challenge us. Naturally, this resulted in a number of small clashes, but all of them were kept under wraps; you should know by now how easy it is to keep a populace unaware of such debacles, given the right technology and social manipulation. Eventually Belenos' ultranationalists fell into disarray, leaving only him and his most elite units intact. That final leg of the crisis led to a fierce confrontation between his forces and ours at a remote underground location he had been using to stage operations. We had tracked him out to that place, and he was waiting for us; he was never one to surrender, or negotiate. It was a bloody fight, the worst I've ever seen, as his soldiers all shot to kill. I lost a lot of good friends during that battle."

The weight of recalling such terrible memories, with all of their sharp pangs of sorrow and fear, was enough to sway even Root's stoicism. He did not speak for a moment, and it was clear that, despite it being so far in the past, that old wound was still hurting. Some regrets never cease to haunt their bearers, and these were Julius' eternal barbs. After a moment of this he fought it back, intent on moving on and shaking the weakening emotions. He did not want to look like that in front of one of his officers.

"Laconus was ultimately outnumbered," he said gruffly, putting on a stern face, "and after an hour of fighting most of them were captured. Only Belenos and a small contingent of his loyalists tried to escape, but they did so by flying out into a chute that was overrun by a magma flare. Their ship was destroyed, and as a consequence there were no remains to identify. Belenos was dead, or so it would seem. This incident was covered up by order of the council and the government. Though it is widely known that Belenos was an ultranationalist, and that he wanted to retake the surface, it is not known that he was willing to go so far as to violently take over and force the People into a genocidal campaign. Furthermore, Belenos is a widely renowned and respected officer, famous in his home region, and for everyone to know that he almost started a civil war would be a blow to the conscience of the People and their very heritage. Instead, the events were wiped from all official records, and the memories of most involved were wiped selectively. Belenos himself was declared KIA, officially deceased in an accident during a magma flare. Over time, he was forgotten, as was his cause."

After saying all of this, Commander Root paused and studied Holly carefully. If he was looking for a huge reaction, he did not find it; Holly, so caught up in what she had been told, remained silent, waiting for any more information that her mind could consume. Root opted to continue, and he did so bitterly, clenching his right fist despite himself.

"I never truly believed that he would have let himself die in such a way. He was always the sort to die facing his enemy, not with his back turned. No, I suspected back then that his retreat was only because he could fake his own death. And he did it. He actually did it..."

To this Holly nodded, her face contorted by fierce thoughts. "Quite a piece of work. And he's changed a lot, I could see the difference."

"No doubt," Root replied. "Still, it was a good outcome that you were the one to carry out this recon mission. If anyone else had done so, they would have been killed. Belenos is capable of doing so without hesitation, as I have witnessed far too many times, and from his standpoint a lone recon officer is a liability if left alive. It would seem that he decided to spare your life because of who you are. He most can certainly recognize you, after knowing your mother for so long."

"I have a feeling that next time he won't be so merciful," Holly said with unease.

"No, he won't be," Root said flatly. "And speaking of next, I am now obliged to inform you that you have only two options going forward. You can choose to not take part in this mess and be memory wiped of all classified information, or…" He leaned forward a little, his brow furrowed. "You can help us solve this problem, once and for all. I cannot afford to involve too many officers in direct action, given the council's demands, which is why I need only the best, and you have certainly earned a place among them. Apart from you, I will be bringing in retrieval teams one, eight, and eleven. Command will be split between Commander Vinyáya and I. You will report to me."

Holly listened to her two options, though for her it was not a dilemma at all. Having gazed into the clandestine world of the People's dark past, and seeing it firsthand, she could not just turn back. Like one who opens a book and, reading its first pages, finds himself captured by its prose, likewise was she bound to the matter that now loomed before her, invested in heart and soul. To answer her commander, she only nodded, though her expression spoke far more than her gesture. Root, upon seeing this, spoke gruffly.

"Welcome aboard, Captain."

"Glad to be," she replied. This was a reflection of her fierce desire to pursue this connection with her mother's past and to, once and for all, put an end to something that could have caused the People—and the whole world—unprecedented grief. It was an enormous risk she was taking, like climbing a mountain in a windstorm, but her envisioned aim, the goal at that treacherous summit, was worth that chance of doom. She stood up as her commander did, and saluted, setting in the stone of duty her commitment to a mission that would never be known to anyone but a few, regardless of what happened.

 **Unknown Location**

In times of great crisis, there is the unavoidable dilemma of right and wrong, always nagging at the minds of the rational, feeling beings caught in the midst of adversity. The fork in the road presents itself, and the travelers—all weary creatures of the world, trying to balance their own survival with the greater good—must choose paths that cannot ever join. For in darkest hours, and in desperate times, that which is right is rarely what it will take to truly triumph. That which is necessary demands, in many cases, the extremes, going against the old ways of moderation and control. But to vanquish great evils, and to restore once great things to their rightful glory, there must be a power of greater measure on the other side of the scale, frightening in its might and yet true in its ultimate purpose. Evil is not always overcome by good. No, sometimes evil can only be defeated by its own kin; darkness by a shadow cut from a mutual cloth.

In a gloomy office, sitting in a chair and gazing thoughtfully upon a holographic display, Major Belenos Æthelryth pondered this matter, his mind easily splitting the tasks and conducting them flawlessly. He had only just disembarked from the _Astaroth_ , and he still wore the clothing he had donned for the night's mission—a mission that had ultimately been a colossal failure. The smell of smoke and a faint coating of dust still clung to him, all from the destruction that had been rained down on the ruins in which a single LEP officer had taken it upon herself to stand firm against his entire squad. Now sitting in a quiet, peaceful place, the Major thought back on it with interest, not at all worried. Worry was not useful to him, nor was fear. He approached it with an open, analytical mind, as he had learned to do over his years of crafted nonexistence.

 _If there is one redeeming event of that debacle, it would be meeting your daughter, so much like you used to be, old friend._ His thoughts were directed at one who could not hear them, his old childhood friend Coral Short. It was not odd to him, to think like this, for if there was anyone who truly understood him, it was her. She had known his hardships, his fears and passions, seeing through him like transparent glass, into his deepest being. No one, certainly no one living, would ever see him like that. Coral had been a good comrade to him, but that had been before his attempt at gaining power a hundred years ago. That crisis had made them into enemies, and it was not by Coral's will either—she tried to help him, and yet he refused, so callously casting their friendship aside only to free his hands to bear the standard of revolution and conquest. Back then, he had been ignorant of what he was throwing away, and now, as he had learned months ago, it was too late. Coral Short had departed from the world, in a glory and honor of her own; he still remained, surrounded by shadows and submerged in his own sins. The contrast couldn't have been greater, and despite how unfeeling he had become over years, the fiery barbs of regret and self-loathing stung him to his core, reminding him of what moral pain felt like. _You were right, Coral. You were always right about that._

The Major let himself stew in this feeling for a few moments, but his thoughts about the past made him dull to it. The Laconus Incident now gleamed before him in his mind's eye, its events all clear, and his mistakes clearer. He smiled bitterly at the thought, his face betraying no mirth at all, only dark vexation. He had been such a fool back then, so utterly bereft of sense, unworthy of the great task he had undertaken. Neither had he been worthy of the rank he had borne, a rank that, at present, was only held on to by his own accord. One hundred years ago, and yet the events perturbed him like something that had happened the day before. What a fool! His actions had been brash, shortsighted, and miscalculated, and he had paid the price for that lack of proper action. His great plans, his army and his power, had all fallen away, just like the roar of earthly fame, which is just a breath of wind blowing this way and that. Greatness had been his pursuit, and yet all he reaped was ruin.

Belenos' face did not change due to these thoughts, nor did he say anything to accentuate his memory-fueled displeasure. His frustration was swift to leave him, gone by the power of his will, and once more he sat silently with nothing but clarity and calculation in his mind. That colossal failure had been then, a lifetime ago, all but ghosts in the halls of history. The present was much different, as changed as a mountainside after a great upheaval. Belenos, now older and bereft of youth's foolish proclivities, gazed into the shadows in thought. A hundred years of being a shadow, of being nonexistent to the world he had loved, had changed him. He was more stable now, more resilient, and in that progression of being there was a flourishing of wisdom. He was not the fool who had nearly plunged the People into civil war. No, at that time he had been nothing more than a sapling, bending to the wind and swaying about, errant and malleable. Just as the passing years grow and harden such fragile little trees, so too was he now firm, resistant to the winds that had once been the cruel masters of his fate.

With this changed body and mind, he thus looked upon his world, his ambitions, and his plans. His goal was no different than before, and the passion that he held for it had further ripened into a sturdy, immovable part of his very soul. In it he found purpose, clear and sharp-edged, and though this purpose was deeply rooted in what he knew to be selfish desires—the dark shade of his heart—it was still, to him, a task whose reason was beyond the limits of his evil. After all, he was still a soldier, and always a warrior of the People, loyal and zealous to the end. After a lifetime of working for the greater good, he innately needed to find a selfless meaning in what he did, a reason disconnected from his own benefit. What he was going to do was not for himself, but for the People. The future was what he was betting everything, even his very life, upon.

This was how he rationalized the sheer madness of the strategy he had contrived. It was purely insane, and the People would not support it in a billion years. It was his duty to do what was best for the People, to serve in their greatest interests, even if they did not know what that would require. For them, he was going to choose. It was better that way. Let the People's conscience be clear, and in recompense may his own be bathed in hellfire. Belenos was willing to take all the fiery barbs of judgment upon himself, undoing himself for the greater good. The reason for this was simple: only a greater evil could hope to vanquish the plight of humanity. Belenos knew the evil in his heart, and he was aware of what he would become. It was acceptable, a small price to pay for the People's glorious future. Let them condemn him, curse him, and let his name go down in history with an infamy that no human could ever match. Let him become a dark blot on the white canvas of the People's heritage, a malignant growth to be separated and ultimately destroyed. This was his acceptance, and he embraced it without hesitation. He knew, in his heart of hearts, that when the horrors of his actions were forgotten, the People would thank the demon who had, many ages ago, freed them of their greatest enemy. One day, when he was long gone, they would thank him for the terrible burden he had so selflessly shouldered. And even if they forgot him completely, wiping his existence from their collective memory, he had no concerns. This was not about him anymore, as it had once been. This was about the People and their deservedly bright future.

The data on his holographic display was all related to his strategy, which was now nearing completion. He had not rushed it as he had the last one, as the LEP had done him the favor of assuming his death. That convenience, however, was now gone. The clash in Ireland with Coral's daughter had exposed him, and he knew that Julius Root, yet another old comrade turned rival, would not waste any time in tracking him down. With his cover blown he would have to accelerate his work, and move before they could stop him. It was a race against time, in which his kin, not his enemies, would try to defeat him. What irony! That those he was fighting for were challenging him! If only they could see. If only they could understand. _But they do not, nor will they for many centuries. Their goodness of heart, their love for peace, has made them soft. They are not strong, not like their ancestors who had so bravely fought alongside one another on the field of battle. If only the glory of Frond's kingdom had lasted. If only we had kept on fighting..._

He always wished this, but he knew it was foolish. All that he could do was change the present and the future, by his own hand. And he would, he was determined to. The only problem was the LEP, his old brothers and sisters in arms now turned against him. Holly would be among them, he was certain, and that thought of her brought him back to the night before. He remembered standing over her, his weapon ready to fire. He had expected to see someone else, but when the smoke and dust had cleared he was given a view of the past, made present in the child of his friend. He could not possibly kill her in such a way, for it would have been a disgrace and an insult to Coral who, despite all that had happened, he still respected. He still saw her for what she had been to him, and held her in highest regards for what she had done with her life, which had been so noble and selfless down to her very death in humility and sacrifice. To spare her daughter, even though she too was his foe, was the only option he had considered. He owed her that much at the very least.

But now, as he thought about what was to come, he knew that the next time he encountered Coral's daughter, he would have to kill her. He could not extend mercy forever, not against one who would undo all that he had worked for. Holly, despite her familiar character, would have to be eliminated. It was yet another sin—among so many—that was to be shored up against the ramparts of his damnation. He could only hope that she would not interfere, but knowing her, she would want to be in the thick of it. _Just like you, old friend. Your resolve is now hers, and by that resolve you both meet your ends._ It is always the heroic ones who perish, whilst the cowards and warmongers watch on, standing to gain from others' courage. War is such a fickle business.

"All so unavoidable," Belenos said softly, eyeing his immoral work as it scrolled across the hologram. He continued to examine the data—test results mainly, of the utmost secrecy—but then the door opened behind him, ushering in sounds of industry. Belenos turned, with a stoic expression on his face, to see the elf that had entered noiselessly thanks to the din. "Good morning, Captain. What have you to report?"

The elf before him was very much his opposite in terms of appearance, being stocky, heavily built, and blunt. A trio of scars lined his fierce, tanned face, and his shaven head gleamed in the artificial light. This was Captain Vepar Cailleach, his second in command. Like him, he had once been in the LEP, serving as a team leader in the now disbanded special forces brigade Belenos had headed. Before that he had been in retrieval and recon, both with notable success. Now, a war criminal like Belenos, he stood in a den of dark and clandestine progress.

"All teams have been recalled, and all assets are being accounted for," Vepar said dutifully, ever the good soldier. "We will have everything ready to go according to schedule, as accelerated as it is. Teams one through three are on standby, and Lieutenant Zuriel's squadron is monitoring the tunnels. If the LEP sends anything in our direction we will know of it and be able to act accordingly."

"Good," Belenos said impassively, glancing once more at his work. "It would be inconvenient to be taken by surprise at a time like this. So much is at stake."

"We have also received word from our informants in Haven," Vepar added. "They confirm that Commander Root and Commander Vinyáya have gone off the grid, along with three retrieval teams and a squadron of ships. They are no doubt being formed into an unofficial taskforce, as not even their upper command knows of it. Currently the taskforce is undergoing rearmament in Haven, though some of their assets were ready for deployment as of two hours ago."

"I expected nothing less from old beetroot," Belenos said with a slight smile, before frowning. "If only our moles had been this useful last night. If we had known of their movements then, we would not be in this mess right now."

"They say that they were unable to relay the information in time," Vepar stated emotionlessly.

"A poor excuse," Belenos replied, leaning back in thought. "Our foes are likely aware of and searching for them. Make sure that they are silenced before they are captured. With things as they stand, we have no need for them any longer."

Vepar nodded—killing several well-paid informants was just business to him. "I will activate their kill switches within the hour."

"As for our recruiters in the correctional facilities," Belenos continued. "Employ the usual method. Pay those goblin triads anonymously once they have done the job. Dismissed."

"Yes sir," Vepar said, saluting before leaving the room.

Major Belenos nodded absentmindedly whilst gazing back at his holographic display, knowing that Vepar, once ordered to do something, would see it through to the end. His orders were as good as done, and those unfortunate agents—who were never actually part of his team, just expendable criminal trash—were within an hour of death. Belenos felt no qualms about killing a dozen undercover informants and recruiters, and neither did he care about the assets he would lose. Now that he was compromised, he had to pursue a scorched earth strategy, wiping out everything useful to the LEP before they could reach it. Such dirty business was the norm, even though a past version of Belenos would have been sick at the very thought of it. So much had changed, out of necessity rather than desire.

"Now the table changes," he said to himself, thinking aloud. "I have made my move, and now, like a thousand commanders before me, I wait for my adversary's countermove with all of my forces poised." He eyed the golden rank insignia that was on his old uniform, which he wore beneath his undone overcoat. Even after a hundred years, through so much change, it glinted brilliantly in the half-light, just as it had the day he had been awarded the rank of major. Root had presented it to him, and had spoken the words of confidence that all commanders said to those worthy of promotion. Thinking back to that day, and remembering the words of the elf who was now his mortal enemy, Belenos spoke softly.

"So, my old friend, we must conduct the business of war once more, resuming that forgotten struggle. What will you do now, Julius? How many will you send to their deaths?" He paused, lighting a cigar—a taste that was rooted in that old friendship as well—and, before using it, regarding its smoldering end. "I have not forgotten what it is like to lose, and now it is your turn to taste that bitter drink. You will not stop me this time. I will not fail again." He put the cigar in his mouth, mirroring his old mentor, and breathed out a thick cloud of pungent smoke, which swirled around him and masked his face—and the deadly glint in his eyes—behind a ghostly veil.


	10. Collapse

**Author's Note:**

 **I intended for this story to be "short" but it would seem that it is going to end up otherwise. I would appreciate further reviews, so that I can estimate the readers' opinion of it to some extent. Regardless, I'll finish this story, it just may take another fifty thousand words (or more). I will be sure to update more frequently, though lately I've been having trouble writing at all, for some vexatious reason. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter! Cheers!  
**

* * *

 **Lower Elements Police Headquarters, Haven**

For any soldier, preparation—both mental and physical—is what must always be done before the carrying out of a dangerous mission. No man, or fairy, can simply proceed into a realm that is unknown, and hope to accomplish a task that, on paper, may seem easy. In the business of war and protection, those who venture forth blindly are those who perish in dread and hopelessness, having no means of conquering that which assails them. Only those who prepare for the darkness, who ready themselves to bear witness to tremendous horror, can function properly. But even then, there is the simple truth that no amount of training can completely prepare someone for what they may find in the real world; theory and simulation fail to delve into the raw power of a genuine moment of life and death, only giving a detached understanding of it. Only when one is thrown into the thick of it and, surrounded by the carnage and madness of battle, feels the clash between their training and their natural fear, can they know if they were truly ready. All too often, they are not.

Having experienced real combat, and having felt the raw terror of facing death, Holly knew that she would never be completely prepared for what may happen. With the world being as it was, no one could truly anticipate everything, especially in the realm of war. She was no fool, unlike those who thought themselves invincible. She knew her mortality, her flaws, and the fact that so much was beyond her control. Nevertheless, it was her duty—and her firm desire—to do her best in the worst of times, even if it meant going beyond what her limits defined. In the end, she would do all that she could do, and if that wasn't enough… She didn't like to think about such a case, but it was in the realm of possibilities, and she had to accept it. There was no point in fighting against truth, who, so clad in the armor of validity, withstands all of the desperate volleys of those who refuse to believe. Holly went about her serious business with that truth ingrained within her, however uncomfortable it was at first; better to get used to it now, rather than later, when a sound mind would be far more important than anything else.

It was late in the afternoon when she found the time to rest, and like one deprived of sleep she was glad to give her body a break from its trials. She had been training all day, in all the areas she needed to ensure proper readiness in for the task at hand. This training had been done alongside the other officers of her taskforce, under the supervision of Commander Vinyáya, who was one of the most decorated officers in the force. Under her direction, they had done more training in a day than most officers do in three months. Naturally, it was necessary, given the fact that they were preparing for a major operation against a formidable enemy. Even the best of the best had to hone their skills and sharpen the edges of their minds, lest they make a seemingly infinitesimal yet fatal mistake during action. _We must be as ready as we can,_ Holly thought as she exited the training facility, her face contorted by her serious mood. Her neutrino was in its holster, and slung over her shoulder was her pulse rifle, newly issued and very effective at obliterating everything in sight. Sweat was dripping from her brow—she had just completed an intense VR simulation—and her auburn hair was a mess, though she could hardly care less. Her countenance said it all.

It was her intention to take a break, and then to resume training sessions, but before she could do the former she found herself face to face with Commander Raine Vinyáya, who had appeared from around a corner with an air of great eminence. Holly immediately recognized her and, without missing a beat, assumed a formal posture and saluted. Raine was gazing down at a data pad, but when she came near she looked up and saw Holly. A subtle smile appeared on her face, faint behind her veneer of unquestionable certitude.

"Captain Short," she said, her voice serious but exuding, ever faintly, the tones of friendliness.

"Yes ma'am," Holly replied stoically, absolutely perfect in her professional demeanor.

Of all the current female officers in the LEP, she admired Raine the most. She had been the trail blazer for all female officers in the police force, working tirelessly over a five-hundred year career to the top of the male hierarchy and defying all of the old perceptions of gender and military service. She was a very business-like elf, to the point and highly efficient in everything she did; her performance made this evident, as did the long list of commendations and successful missions that her name was attached to. Holly knew her well, because back in the academy Raine had been her flight instructor and de facto tutor, and due to her mentorship there was an existing camaraderie between them.

Raine stopped before Holly, her silver hair gleaming in the light, and her light brown eyes—almost gold in color—observing intelligently. "At ease, Captain," she said. "I assume that you have finished your simulations and are in need of a respite?"

"Yes, Commander," Holly replied, keeping a respectful tone despite relaxing her posture.

"That will have to wait," Raine replied, her smile suddenly gone and her overall countenance making it clear that there was a very important matter at hand. "We have a new development, and it is quite important. Please, walk with me. We need you in the briefing room immediately. Julius is already there, and he's in a rather crimson mood, as can be expected." She started to walk down the corridor, with Holly in tow.

"What's the situation?" Holly asked as she walked.

"A lot has just transpired," Raine said gravely. "I will tell it to you straight, we may as well have you filled in before we brief you on your mission."

Holly nodded, but said nothing. She was all ears.

"We recently received a report from our interrogation team," Raine began. "They managed to get Talbot to talk, though admittedly with the help of some of _medicine_. It is clear now that he was recruited by one of Belenos' agents while in prison; his old agency had informants and spies everywhere, and some of them still operate in fruitful employing grounds like correctional facilities. They likely scouted him out, watched him for a while, and then approached him after his brother had died—a tragedy that they may have arranged in order to make him more susceptible to their persuasions. What they did was simple. It is a common strategy that radical groups use. They target the desperate, the isolated, the fearful, the ignorant, and use these things to bend them to their will. You see, it is very easy to recruit someone when they have nothing left to lose. Talbot is a classic case. He had no hope for a normal life, no family, no future. Belenos gave him a way out, a chance at glory and revenge, to be part of something greater than himself. Naturally, he accepted. The riot, the escape, the murder, everything; all of it was orchestrated in order to evaluate Talbot, to test him before he was able to ever meet Belenos in person. There have been similar incidents in the past, I would assume. He has likely added a good number of such recruits to his private army, no doubt to act as more expendable foot soldiers, all radicalized and fiercely devoted. They are pawns, nothing more."

To this Holly only grunted, keeping her emotion at bay and focusing on a rational analysis of what she was being told. There was no time for counterproductive reactions to hearing negative truths. She looked over the Raine, who had paused, and after a moment of silence she spoke. "That's not all of it, is it?"

"No," Vinyáya admitted. "That is just a footnote. The real matter at hand arose an hour ago, and rather violently at that." She glanced at her data pad, which was scrolling a life feed of relevant information. "There have been a total of twelve simultaneous deaths, five in the LEP and seven in correctional facilities around the Lower Elements. The ones in our ranks were instant, showing in autopsy to be done by an explosive nanochip in the brain. The others were orchestrated by goblin triads, who are no doubt being paid."

To hear that five LEP officers had just been killed made Holly's brow furrow with concern and surprise. "Who did we lose?"

"Two non-commissioned officers, three Lieutenants, all with a minimum of fifty years of service. Only one was stationed in Haven, the rest were equally dispersed across our other major settlements. These officers all had spotless records, but upon examination of their personal effects, we discovered that they were working undercover for Belenos and his organization."

"And he killed them," Holly growled, anger seeping into her voice.

"Ordered their deaths," Raine said with a sour expression. "They were liabilities, and we were on the verge of discovering them as well. He was faster than us."

"D'arvit…" Holly muttered under her breath.

"Our reason for assigning you this mission is because we managed to glean something from this mess," Raine stated coolly. "Most of these undercover agents' communications equipment was destroyed by a remote electronic attack, but one of them was not. We immediately took it to our technicians, and Foaly, despite his narcissism, did very well. He managed to isolate a signal, a faint one at that, while simultaneously breaking through some of the heaviest encryption we have ever seen. That signal, despite being broad and unclear, has given us a solid lead."

"Where?" Holly asked, eager to know.

Raine shook her head. "Commander Root will fill you in on those details once we are in the briefing room. It will be a short meeting, and I can guarantee that you will be out of here within the hour."

A few minutes later Holly stood in the silence of the briefing room, waiting as Commander Root looked over an intelligence report. Then, without any preamble, he began.

"That signal has been isolated as best as can be done. What it leaves us with is an area of ninety-six thousand square miles, southeast of the French Polynesian islands. In a relative sense that is a very good piece of intel, but it gets a lot easier when we consider the subterranean makeup of that region." He pointed at the holographic projection, which showed a map of the magma chutes beneath the South Pacific. "There is only one magma chute large enough for ships to travel through in that region, though it has been abandoned for a few hundred years due to instability. The chute itself leads to a group of volcanoes on the ocean floor, however there are a number of smaller tunnels branching off from it, many of them uncharted. I am dispatching a squadron ships to scout out the area, and I want you, Captain, to lead them."

"Me, sir?" Holly asked, surprised.

"You're the best pilot we have, Captain, your test scores speak for themselves," Vinyaya, who was to Root's left, said confidently. "We need to ascertain if that signal has any merit to it, or if it is merely a proxy to fool us. Do you think you can do that, Captain Short?"

Though Holly was caught off guard by her assignment, she was not at all doubtful about her own abilities. She immediately nodded, and spoke without a sliver of uncertainty in her voice. "Yes Ma'am."

"Good," Commander Root replied, his countenance only slightly less crimson. "Your detailed orders are on your data pad, and your ship has priority launch. You are to leave immediately. We cannot afford to be slow in reacting to something like this. We must act before they realize their mistake." He then turned off the projection, focusing all of his attention on Holly, piercing her with his gaze and locking her in place with his fierce expression. His words, however rough, were honest to the core. "Be careful, Captain. You are the vanguard in this, not the main force. Do not engage the enemy unless they do so first. As we both know from our discussion earlier, Belenos will not spare you again. I vowed at the beginning of this mission to not lose a single officer to that lunatic, and I mean to see it through. Do not add yourself to the list of brave fairies he has killed. That's an order."

It was a novelty being ordered, literally, to not die in the line of duty, because the possibility of death was an inalienable part of their duty, rooted deep in the harsh reality of putting the greater good before one's own existence. Holly was quick to agree—and she meant it, as any sane person would—but she also wondered about her commander's passionate resolve. Root had lost many of his comrades to Belenos and his forces during their rivalry all those years ago, and the wounds that such loss opened in his heart had likely never healed. As a commander he took responsibility for those who perished, and it was a heavy burden to bear, especially when the deaths were to be shrouded in mystery due to the classified nature of the conflict. It was understandable that he refuse to lose like that again, not to the elf who had caused so much pain; Commander Root wanted to do it right this time, to be able to come out of it with his head held high and his comrades alongside him rather than lined up in caskets. It was a very understandable conviction, and Holly took it to heart. She had no intention of dying, and she would not; not unless the very gods threw their spears of fate upon her, and even then she would put in her share of defiance.

"You have my word, Commander," she said, fierce and not at all uncertain.

Root nodded. "Very well, you are dismissed."

As Holly left the room, she felt the eyes of the two commanders follow her. There was a weight on her shoulders that she had yet to truly grasp, but in time she would realize its measure, just as one who plunges into a clouded lake knows its depth only when his feet touch bottom. It was a realm of unknowns she was venturing into, and the memory of her last surface mission was still fresh, reminding her of how any mission, no matter how cut and dry, could suddenly spiral down an Avernus of unexpected chaos.

 **Chute P-37, Beneath the South Pacific**

Miles beneath solid rock, far beyond the reach of light, there was an incomprehensible darkness, so pure and so unremitting that it was a realm of visual nothingness, starving the sight of all and leaving only the cold touch of stone and the scent of stale air—all bespeaking the presence of things unseen. Nothing was more impenetrable than the darkness that reigned in the abandoned magma chutes and the tunnels beyond, and these chaotic passageways, so interwoven with the earth's deep skin, were places of mystery and danger even for fairies, whose mastery of subterranean life could not possibly bring the entire underworld into their fold. No, even the People were unaware of some of these places, blind to that which lay within, and it was this ignorance—however understandable—that made Holly uneasy. Though all major chutes were mapped, the tunnels beyond were treacherous and unpredictable. The presence of a powerful enemy amidst those dark reaches added another layer of apprehension; both natural and unnatural forces were at play, each deadly and merciless in their own way. As she carefully piloted her ship—an LEP reconnaissance shuttle—through a narrow gap in the bedrock, she muttered her discontent under her breath. This place, so oppressive, was a deathtrap waiting to happen, and despite her exceptional ability as a pilot, Holly dared not feel at ease. She kept her wits about her, her eyes on both the view ahead and her helmet's HUD, and her hands steady on the controls. Behind her, following at safe distances, were two more scout ships, each piloted by capable officers. Lieutenant Mikelis Falryth and Master Sergeant Quinten Brooker were both experienced pilots with thousands of hours of flight time under their belts, and though their scores were not quite as good as hers, they were still in the upper tiers. Each had a call sign for easy communications—Mikelis' being _roc_ , and Quinten's being _sylph_ —as did she, hers being _Havoc_. Holly noted their positions and the path ahead, and then spoke into their communications link.

"Roc, Sylph, be advised, we're leaving P-37 as of this moment. It's all uncharted from this point onward. Follow my lead, and be ready for anything."

After receiving affirmations from each of her two comrades, she resumed her full concentration on her forward progress. The darkness, so malicious before her, masked everything until it was sliced in half by the trio of their heavy beams, whose white light confronted the blackness with a timeless contrast; the very struggle between good and evil, hope and oblivion. Yet even with such mighty spotlights, the darkness remained in the recesses and openings that marked the stone in all directions, waiting to emerge once its ancient foe passed by. These shadows wavered at first, but then, as the ships went by, they flowed outward and swallowed everything, consuming the transitory images of the jagged underworld with their seamless oblivion.

 _A lot of places to hide in here,_ Holly thought as she navigated through the tunnels and eyed all the dark passageways that branched off. She ran her scanners the whole time, searching for anything that could denote the presence of fairy technology—which Belenos' organization had plenty of. The advanced equipment built into her scout shuttle could detect even the slightest whispers of high technology, and in a place so bereft of anything but stone, it was certain to catch whatever may be concealed there—if, of course, there was anything at all. For all she knew, their lead was but a decoy, throwing them off the real trail. She hoped not, but it was a possibility.

The search had begun three hours ago, and now, amidst the convoluted tunnels beneath the South Pacific, Holly still worked patiently. Her desire to find and pacify Laconus was stronger than any voice of weariness or vexation, and in her mind there was neither. Discipline, and passion, made any arduous task achievable.

"There is a larger area dead ahead," she said to her comrades, noting her scan results. "Spread out and run full scans. This room branches off into at least a hundred, our geo-scanners can reach all of them from there."

" _Roger that, Havoc."_

The cavern loomed ahead like a great abyss, so vast and filled with darkness that even when the three ships' beams flashed into its depths, only a fraction of it was revealed. Through a narrow opening they entered, barely missing the dense stone that ringed their passage; the great openness of the cavern they flew into was a stark contrast, like traveling from a small river into the wondrous expanse of an ocean. Holly glanced around despite herself, even though _looking_ was quite useless in such a place; it was just an odd feeling she got, so out in the open, exposed and unaware of what may be waiting. She quickly brought her scanners to their highest level, directing their pulses in all directions so as to penetrate as much of the channels as she could. As she ran the scans, she received a signal from Haven, which she was quick to answer. It was Commander Root, sounding as gruff as ever.

 _"Captain, status report."_

"We are currently holding our position at grid eighty three, subsection twelve," Holly replied. "Running scans again, awaiting results."

 _"Inform me the moment you find anything, even if it's a seemingly insignificant reading."_

Holly glanced out the window as she spoke. "Yes sir, I will contact you in the event of any…" She paused, her words cut off as she saw, out the front of her cockpit window, a flash of light far in the distance. She blinked, noted that nothing was amiss on her scanners, and then suddenly shouted into her communicator. "Contact, straight ahead!" At the same time, as she yelled this warning, the flash of light materialized into a projectile, which flew so fast that it was upon them before anything could be done. It whizzed right by Holly's ship, passing so close that its crimson glare made her shield her eyes; she gritted her teeth, glared furiously, and then heard the din as the shot sliced through the scout ship on her right side. Fire suddenly lit part of the chamber, and Holly saw, out of the corner of her eye, her fellow officer's ship careen towards the stone floor. She could not watch, however, as a stream of crimson shots—from a heavy laser cannon—lanced forth from the darkness ahead. She immediately took evasive maneuvers, veering sharply and diving beneath the fusillade of cannon fire—focusing on survival, even as the damaged LEP ship slammed into in a rock formation and rolled to a halt, spewing flame and exuding energy from its breached reactor.

Adrenaline was instantly flowing through Holly as she avoided the enemy attacks, but far more noticeable was a feeling of extraordinary anger and frustration. Her foe had come out of nowhere, not even appearing on her scanners, which were supposed to be the best the LEP had to offer. It was terrifying, being so duped, and with one of her ships down already it was a tremendous blow to her conscience and her spirit. Though at present she could only focus on proper action, she would find time later to hate herself for her perceived mistakes. "D'arvit, d'arvit, d'arvit!" she rasped, her face contorted by her fierce anger as she flew low over the cavern floor while a shower of laser shots peppered the landscape, melting stone and turning the darkness into a hellish red. The source of these shots was directly behind her, but it was hard for her to get a visual. Further behind her, a fair distance away, the other remaining scout ship was in the same boat as her, narrowly avoiding attacks from an invisible assailant. Holly wanted to help, but she was quite caught up. A noise in her ear perturbed her even more.

" _Captain, what's going on?"_ Commander Root barked. _"What's—"_

Static followed, and Holly knew then that her connection to Haven had been severed. This made her frown just a little more. _Shit…Not this again…_

A burst of laser fire from behind forced her to abandon her angry thoughts, which had only detracted from her concentration. She spiraled upwards into the shadows of the cavern's heights, which rose only half a mile, and it was clear by the pursuing laser fire that her enemy was following her directly. She kept going up, fierce in countenance and determined in spirit, until it seemed that she would collide with the bedrock above. At the decisive moment she reversed her thrusters and spun her ship around, fighting her forward momentum whilst turning to face the enemy below. As she came about, she could see her foe appearing through the haze that its shots had created; it was a ship, evidently, but she did not waste any time trying to identify it. Instead she opened fire, using all of her ship's four laser cannons—a comparatively light armament—at once. The blue bolts of energy shot out against the crimson charges of the other, and both vessels, fired upon at close range, were forced to evade and move away from one another. As this happened Holly caught a more detailed glimpse of the enemy ship, whose jet-black hull was illuminated by the glare of her shots. She was not surprised to see that it was a Zephyr II, just like the night on the surface.

"Well, that confirms it," she growled, her face contorted by anger.

With her attacker momentarily off her tail, Holly set a course for Lieutenant Mikelis, who was in a dogfight with a second ship of the same model. _I thought they only had one…_ Naturally, they didn't just have one. Since when did villainous ultranationalist armies not double down on weaponry? It was not something she could really ponder at the moment, as she was far more interested in helping her friends. She could see from above the crash site that her other colleague, Quinten, was still alive, crawling away from the wreckage in evident distress. Holly set her jaw. She had to do something quickly, before someone lost their life. Flying up behind the fight that was transpiring between the other ships, she opened a channel to Mikelis and spoke quickly.

"Evac Quinten and get the hell out of here!"

Through a momentary static the other spoke, rather flustered. _"I can't d'arvit! Not with that blasted ship taking potshots at me!"_

Holly had said ship in her sights, and she spoke without hesitation or lack of confidence as she put her finger on the fire control. "I'll take care of it. When you get an opening, do not hesitate! That's an order!" With her target lined up she was about to open fire, but from behind her she noticed that her original enemy was coming up fast, weapons blazing. In a very tight moment, she fired on the one ship whilst diving down from the other, and though she could not strike her target, it made it veer off and cease its pursuit of her colleague. Down Holly flew, towards the impenetrable floor of the cavern, and when she pulled upwards she found that she had both of the enemy ships on her tail. It was a grave situation, for not only was she outnumbered, she was also going against two advanced attack craft in a comparatively feeble recon shuttle. This, however, only made her grin. There was anger and excitement in that smile, and her eyes were narrowed into a determined glare.

"Yeah, that's right, follow me you bastards…"

The cavern was home to hundreds—if not thousands—of rock formations, all stalactites and stalagmites, whose pointed forms loomed up and down like the teeth of some enormous monster. Holly went low, hugging the ground and weaving in between the rocks, which were like a forest they were so dense and numerous, all while maintaining a high speed. The two Zephyrs followed viciously, firing at her whenever they caught a glimpse between the rock formations, and the red glare of their shots added a bloody light to the forest of jagged spikes. Holly kept grinning despite herself as she flew, even as several of the pillars were blown apart and sent crashing nearly on top of her. It was thrilling, but more than anything it was that her plan was working. Her colleague was evacuating their wounded comrade, and once they were safe nothing could really touch her. Her life was hers to give, but she could not let others perish under her command—a belief that her commander bore. Though Root did not want her to needlessly risk her life, she was certainly in that spot now, and nothing could change that.

"Keep up, assholes!" she growled, clutching the controls as more shots careened past her. She steeled a glance during a sharp turn, but only caught one of the ships in her sight. This made her nervous, as without visual sightings she could not tell where that one was. This was answered, quite predictably, from above. The second Zephyr had moved over the rocks and dived like a hawk, right upon Holly's position. Shots filled the air, and Holly cursed, feeling her ship tremble as several laser bolts sliced into its hull. Alerts blared in her helmet, but she could tell by the fact that she was not dead that her ship was still able enough to fly. Upwards she glanced, and there she saw the enemy ship moving in for another dive. She had to act quickly. In fact, she had three seconds to come up with a plan of action, in which she noted an enormous spire ahead and its predictable angle of fall. Without hesitating she opened fire.

The heavy burst of laser rounds slammed into the towering stone formation, shattering and melting its base and sending a wave of instability through its enormous bulk. Cracks roared in the air, echoing throughout the vast cavern, and in seconds the stalagmite began to tilt downwards towards where Holly was coming from. At the same time, one of the Zephyrs came around the bend behind her, and the other one above dove in to attack. With three certain deaths coming down upon her—two foes and a tower of stone—Holly held her course, her face a mask of pure tenacity and her mouth pressed shut in concentration. It was all down to seconds, transitory breaths of time, and any error meant death.

The enormous stalagmite quickly loomed over her, mid-stride in its fall, and it served to block the enemy overhead, who was forced to abandon his dive or otherwise ram into the stone behemoth. The other enemy, directly behind her, seemed determined to kill her, as he kept flying towards her; perhaps he thought he could strike her before she could pull off some crazy stunt. The latter opened fire on her, spraying crimson bolts in her direction, even as the stone fell over them both. Holly held to the controls with a death grip, her brow furrowed by intense concentration. _Steady as she goes!_ A few shots struck the rear of her ship, but they did not stop her. In the three seconds that passed over this moment, the falling stalagmite had nearly finished its passage, and in doing so it left a small gap at its base, which was completely undone. Holly fired rapidly at the base, destroying it even more, and then she did the last thing her foes would expect her to do: she flew right into that crumbling spot, firing madly and throttling her engines. The enemy on her tale, expecting her to veer left or right, clearly experienced a moment of utter disbelief, as he kept flying ahead and then, before he could react, was crushed by the falling pillar. Fire, dust, and shattered stone filled the air with a chaotic cloud, and through it Holly flew upwardly, having somehow made it past the whirlwind of doom. The emerged just in time to catch the other Zephyr, which had abandoned its dive, flying overhead with its underside exposed—it did not think it possible for her to survive. This was to her great advantage, and with a satisfied smile she lined up the target and opened fire, peppering its underside and riddling it with glowing holes. The Zephyr wavered as it took the hits, and then plummeted towards the ground far below, leaving a heavy trail of smoke in its wake. Holly watched, and saw an ejection from its cockpit—the pilot, of course. _Good._ Though she was certain the other pilot had gotten himself killed by trying to follow her—a foolish act of his own doing, not hers—this one had been in her hands. She could not kill so directly, not unless it was unavoidable.

The ailing ship spiraled out of control and soon exploded into pieces as it struck another rock formation. Fire and sparks lit part of the cavern again, and Holly, so high above it all in her damaged ship, looked on with a firm expression. Both of her foes were out of action in one way or another. She had won, somehow, and having survived such a brutal fight the elf sighed and let herself relax for a few precious seconds. No sooner had she done this than she saw the darkness far ahead of her begin to shimmer in several spots, and then, out of that shadow, there appeared three more Zephyrs. Holly stared blankly at them for a second, her mouth agape. _How many of these things do they have?!_ Too many to deal with, that was for certain, and though they seemed to be holding their position at present, she knew that they would pounce when the time was right. With that confrontation in mind, she opened a channel to Lieutenant Mikelis, her every word exuding urgency.

"Lieutenant, what's the status of your evacuation?"

 _"I have recovered Quinten and am currently securing him in my ship,"_ the other replied, breathing heavily from exertion. _"He's burnt pretty bad, but he'll make it."_

Holly smiled, even though her heart and mind were afflicted by anxiety and fear. "Excellent work. Get him back to Haven ASAP."

 _"Captain, what about you?"_

Holly looked at the foes before her, through the fire and smoke to where they waited like demons beyond the divine barrier between the living and the dead. "I'll keep them off your tail," she growled, absentmindedly selecting her ship's weapons and increasing their charge. "If we retreat together, they'll pick us off. I'm not going anywhere until you're in the clear. Now get out of here!"

The Lieutenant hesitated, but he could not refuse her orders. _"Yes Captain,"_ he said, before adding with the utmost respect and sincerity, _"Thank you, and good luck."_

Holly could see his ship leaving the cavern, on a course for Haven and safety, and she smirked. Luck. Yeah, that was the ticket wasn't it? Looking at the three enemy ships, she could hardly believe that luck would be decisive; and yet, if anything, she wanted it to be on her side. She was in way over her head.

For a minute she watched the enemy, her hands poised to fire her weapons, but after all that tense waiting they did nothing about her. Instead, with an odd amount of haste, they turned around and left, disappearing into the darkness without a trace. This was odd, and Holly, having expected a fight, frowned uneasily. What on earth were they doing? Surely they were not fleeing from her, not when they had the advantage. It was something else, and it made an ominous feeling of dread roil in Holly's heart. Either they were messing with her, or they were very serious about getting out of the cavern. Still hovering in the center of that vast place, Holly decided it was time to leave as well. Better to go back to Haven and report what she had seen, than to dig any deeper. Keeping her eyes on the darkness, she began to bring her ship about. In the distance was the exit that would take her to the magma chute—and a sense of certitude, though maybe not safety. Her eyes fell upon it, and at that very same moment a blinding flash of light erupted from that spot, followed by an appalling rumble and the hellish glare of fire.

Holly watched, in disbelief, as the entire side of the cavern exploded outwards, blasted apart by powerful detonations. Stone fell in unimaginable volumes, and the explosions rolled on, unremitting in their simple work of undoing. Like a sporadic show of fireworks, detonations dotted the vast roof of the cavern, speeding along it and ruining its stability completely. All of this happened in the span of five seconds, and Holly, seeing it all unfold, uttered a loud string of curses and spun her ship around the other way. Her escape route was destroyed, and the whole damn cavern was coming down! Her enemy, in a rash but effective move, had decided to obliterate her and the LEP's means of reaching them all at once. She had to get out of there, but to where she did not know; the uncharted tunnels before her could lead to survival or doom, the latter more likely. Yet as uncertain as it was, she was forced to choose without pause, lest hesitation doom her to an untimely death.

"D'arvit, why the whole cavern?!" Holly growled as she opened the throttle and put every ounce of the ship's available energy into its thrusters. She accelerated from zero to over Mach 1 in but a moment, and though the g-forces pulled against her with their imperceptible hands, she pushed her ship to go faster and faster. Stone and fire rained down behind her in a steady wave, casting dust into the air and smothering all in shadows. Death was chasing her, closely and mindlessly, and she had no clear way out. It seemed almost hopeless, but Holly—just like her mother—was not one to accept such an unfair allotment. Instead she kept moving, with a fierce countenance and a steady hand. Though everything was coming apart around her, she kept herself from panicking—even though the thought of being crushed under tons of stone was scraping at her resolve. The roar of that collapsing rock, like a monstrous beast, served as further reason to press onward.

Holly pushed her ship to the far end of the cavern in seconds, with the collapse biting her heels and nearly hammering her into the cavern floor. When the area before her also began to fall inwards, she did not slow down. Keeping her speed at Mach 1.5—which was insane in such a tight space—she blasted through the hail of falling stone, narrowly avoiding the massive pieces that followed the initial shower of fragments; these fell like titans behind her, shaking the earth with the might of their falls. _Come on! s_ he thought, gritting her teeth as she flew through the madness. _Just a little more!_

Her destination was the same tunnel her foes had retreated into, and despite the inherent danger of following them, it was not like she had a choice. What mattered was that it led somewhere other than _certain_ death; in this case probable death. This tunnel loomed before her now, at the last leg of the falling cavern, but it went up a steep angle—a very steep one at that, almost vertical. When she was upon it, she had to jerk the controls and pull upwards with such desperation that she nearly screamed. Her ship responded a little too slowly to her demands. With a loud bang and the ear-piercing scraping of metal on stone, the ship ran against the edge of the tunnel like a stone skipping on water. The vibrations were almost unbearable, but Holly pulled out of it enough to climb upwards into the smaller tunnel—towards more darkness, cold stone, and unseen foes. Her face was contorted by stress at this point, but she held on and remained fully concentrated on what was before her. This paid off, as just when she had regained a steady rate of climb, the walls on both sides of the tunnel ahead burst outwards, sending a wave of stone and fire sweeping through the air before her. Reacting swiftly—and swearing enough to impress an inebriated goblin—she steered right beneath the wave of destruction, through the smallest gap in its spread. Fire and stone seemed to engulf her, and the noise—of striking rock and roiling flames—was so loud that even with her helmet on she felt her ears ache. For dear life she held on, using sheer willpower and intuition to get through the hellfire that her foes had cast up before her. It felt like the passage of a long trial, but in only a few seconds she was out of it, emerging into a tight tunnel that took a sharp turn directly ahead. Jerking the controls and fighting against the resulting force, Holly turned her ship around the bend and subsequently hit the throttle. She could not slow down, because—as was quite predicable—the tunnel was still falling apart, and a wall of fire just so happened to be chasing her like the very breath of Hades. It was odd that during this terrible moment Holly made the connection between her present circumstance and a scene from a popular human sci-fi film. It was a ridiculous thought that went in and out as fast as it took her to notice the increasing intensity of the fiery light. The flames were catching up to her.

"Come on, go faster d'arvit!" Holly growled. She had already pushed the accelerator to the max, but with its current damages the scout ship was simply incapable of faster flight. The elf clenched her teeth and glanced at her sensors, which happened to be nonoperational. It just got worse and worse, with every system seemingly teetering on the edge of oblivion. The fire soon caught up, its bright light now a blinding one, and before Holly knew it she was flying amidst a sea of flames and hot gasses. It jostled the ship and immediately began to eat away at its hull, but even in spite of this Holly kept fighting, her eyes never leaving their forward direction. She could not give up. She could not die here, not like this!

The heat instantly began to increase inside the ship, and though her recon suit and helmet protected her from it, it would not do so for very long. Already the metal surfaces around her were getting too hot to touch, and the ship itself was losing what little potency it had left. If she remained in this hellfire for any more than a minute, she would be doomed. She said nothing when this reality dawned on her, nor did she even make a sound. Instead, she remained determined. The sheer gravity of the situation, and all the odds stacked against her, forced her to dig deeper and deeper into herself, where she would find the very core of her strength. In moments like this, when everything is so close to destruction, one finds all of their useless worries and inconvenient layers melted away, leaving only the strongest and most genuine aspects—courage, determination, and sheer willpower. Even terror and uncertainty did not assail her as they had before, for they could only gain solid purchase in a mind that was still vulnerable to their cutting edge. Holly's mind, so fixed on survival, could barely register these primal emotions. Everything had boiled down to making it out alive; all else had evaporated, unable to remain within the tempestuous waters of her predicament.

Holly glared straight ahead, seeing faintly through the veil of fire to where her salvation waited. Her systems were all in the red, blaring alerts or shutting down completely, and all she could do was ignore them. She kept the engines at full, her direction steady—as the tunnel was straight now—and simply refused to change her course of action. The heat was now almost unbearable, and it was at this moment, when it felt like her body would burst into flames, that she found one final burst of strength and resolve. Pushing her ship past its limits—and incidentally making its reactor breach in several spots—she put in one final effort. With a determined scream and a face that was the very image of determination, Holly charged through the flames, and then out of them, riding on the front like a surfer on a wave. The tunnel changed at that moment, opening up into a larger cavern, and when the fire burst out into it, it naturally dissipated and lost its momentum. Out of this Holly flew like a ballistic missile, her world changing in an instant from hellish colors to the dreary ensemble of the underground. The heat dissipated, and certain death fell behind, but if she was inclined to feel relieved by this escape, Holly did not. The moment she emerged into the cavern she saw an enormous blast door looming before her, partially open. It would seem to be the entrance to the place where Belenos had been concealed for the last hundred years. To both sides of it hovered Zephyr-class ships—half a dozen of them—and further still, mounted around the door, were stationary cannons. All of them were aiming at her, and with her ship flying out of control straight towards them Holly could do absolutely nothing. She could only feel the object of her doom change from one to another, and to that twist of fate she spoke flatly.

"You've got to me kidding me…"

Flying at over the speed of sound, and bereft of any control, the LEP scout ship careened towards the open door like a rock, and all of the Laconus operatives waiting there were so surprised by her appearance that they did not open fire immediately. Only when she was nearly upon them did they lay down a deadly storm of laser fire, filling the air with charges and peppering the LEP ship like a rusted-out car at an American machine gun shoot. One of the first shots to hit went right through the window at an angle, screaming past Holly's head and proceeding out the other side. She ducked low and tried to be as small a target as possible, but the shots were so many, and the ship was being torn apart. Yet in spite of this, the LEP scout ship—now bearing resemblance to Swiss cheese—continued past the shooting enemies and into the hangar bay, where it bounced off of a landed Zephyr and then flew end over end through the entire facility. It all went by in blurs of black and grey, and Holly, still covering herself, barely noticed anything apart from the bone-shattering collisions. Her ship tore through the hangar like a demon out of hell, and it just so happened that, as she leaned down for cover, Holly pressed down the fire control button. Two of her four cannons were still operational, and they suddenly began to fire randomly as the ship bounced and spun through the long room at six-hundred kilometers an hour. Fire and explosions erupted, and return fire tore the entire rear section of Holly's ship off, but once again she barely noticed—her head was spinning, and her leg felt as if it were broken. What she didn't see was her ship proceeding through the hangar, clean through a frail iron door, out into a long corridor, and then through yet another set of doors, all while leaving a trail of destruction in its wake. Really, it was like being a ping pong ball, except it was made of alloy and was spraying a stream of lasers all over the place.

Another thin metal door presented a useless obstacle, and all of the sudden, after that final collision, Holly felt her ship fly out into open air. She could feel the sun on her face and the scent of fresh air coming through the broken canopy. At this moment she looked up and saw that she had exploded out of a hillside, roughly a hundred meters above a large expanse of forest which stood on the edge of a shoreline. Staring at it in awe, Holly almost forgot that she had a broken leg; seeing the green of trees, the blue sky, the glittering sea, and the blazing sun all struck her with their natural glory, and it was quite striking given where she had just come from. However, despite this reaction, she quickly realized that she was in deep shit, metaphorically and perhaps literally. The crumpled LEP ship was about as graceful as a tin can as it flew through the open air, and its engines were nonexistent, meaning that gravity was going to give it a harsh lesson in simple physics. Holly felt weightless as the ship began to fall towards the tropical forest below, but she did not panic as much as others would. Instead she acted out of reflex, knowing the only option she had left. Reaching under her seat, she grabbed a switch and pulled. To her surprise, nothing happened.

 _What the f…_ Holly tried again, all while seeing the ground get closer. Again, it did not respond. Her ejector seat's backup switch was jammed, maybe even melted by one of the laser shots from before. "D'arvit! D'arvit! D'arvit!" she cursed, trying again and again. It had to be stuck! What a moment for that to happen! She looked ahead at the fast-approaching forest—at certain death—and then felt a powerful rush of adrenaline blast through her. With a roar she pulled again, as determined as ever before, and it was at that moment, when her ship just started to collide with the treetops, that a distinct _click_ sounded beneath her the seat. Nothing happened; that sound was the handle itself snapping off. Holly paled, and then felt the colossal force of her ship making contact with the thick trees below. The sunlight was cut off as she plunged into the forest, rending trees into splinters and tearing through masses of leafs as if they were but formless clouds. But they were anything but formless, and their strong resistance hammered the hell out of everything, including Holly who, despite her suit's kinetic dampening technology and her seat's state-of-the-art safety features, was still receiving a ridiculous beating. It hurt like hell, and she could do nothing but hold on for dear life. Her whole world had become nothing more than a maddening combination of intense collisions and deafening noises, assaulting her for what felt like eternity, an endless perdition.

Holly could not speak, and she could barely think, so caught up in the whirlwind of chaos. Time after time a tree or rock was struck, in rapid succession, and the small ship broke more and more, falling to pieces as it carved through the woods and into the very ground, leaving a trench in its wake. Fire burst out from behind Holly, and what was left of the canopy shattered into pieces and pelleted her with glittering shards. Still she held on, determined to her last breath. And it could have been her very last, had some fortune not been on her side. Never did she cease to look forward, suddenly unable to look away. Then, as suddenly as each unexpected collision, the forest ended. Out into the light of day her ship rolled, still moving quickly, and that was when a terrible impact came. It happened fast, and the last thing Holly saw before blackness overtook her was fire and flying metal, all upon a backdrop of white sand and glittering waves.


	11. Survive

**Somewhere in the South Pacific**

Life is inseparable from death, just as light is permanently intertwined with darkness; both opposites that come together, despite their ageless rivalry, to form the very framework of existence. Hand in hand they go, each the side of a mutual coin, whose toss will always land on one side, and then surely the next. And between these two decisive forces lies death's close relative, which is sleep, who mirrors its elder kin and yet lacks its commitment; like a performance, it is but a play of the real thing, a rehearsal for the true stillness that follows the endless toil of mortal beings. Sleep, those loathsome slices of death! Never has it failed in its transient power, for it puts even the most powerful beings on their backs. Unconsciousness, like this daily death we call sleep, is a void that mirrors our final undoing, smothering and yet comforting in its nothingness. There are no troubles, no fears, and no pains whilst in its arms; all things fade away when surrounded by its opaque veil. It was out of this overpowering darkness that Holly rose, awakening to the world of the living—a world that she had almost been wrenched from, yet still clung to by bare threads. From nothingness came the sensations, smells, and eventual sights of her circumstance, and when the veil was lifted from her mind she slowly took them all in. Pain was suddenly striking her, sharp and throbbing, and the smell of burning was everywhere, so thick and mighty in the air that it even made her gag inside her helmet. She opened her eyes, blinking back involuntary tears, and saw the distorted orb of the sun through a roiling haze of smoke, which in turn was twisted by her blurred vision and the grime that was spattered upon her helmet's cracked visor.

For a long moment she stared, disoriented by the suddenness of the flood of awareness. It was after a minute or so that she pieced her mind back together, collecting herself and realizing where she was and why she was there. She felt sand beneath her, and clenched it in her right hand, whilst at the same time tilting her head to the left to see the ocean no more than fifty feet away, its waves lapping against the shore and making a gentle rhythm. Then she looked to her right, and saw a towering inferno that had once been her ship. This made her sit up quickly, which she regretted instantly. A terrible pain shot up her leg, making her wince and curse under her breath. She looked down instinctively, pulled up the leg of her recon suit, and saw that her left leg was indeed broken. It had a compound fracture, the bone literally jutting out of the flesh, though thankfully just barely. Her magic was swirling madly around it, but it could not mend it with the bone so far out of place. Setting her jaw and thinking quickly—remembering her training—Holly used her own hands to press the bone inwards so that her magic could do the rest. It hurt like hell, each time she pressed it inwards feeling like it would make her pass out, and as she worked it in with a very furious expression she bit her lip and drew a dark rivulet of blood. One final effort repositioned the broken bone in such a way that the magic could work, and as it did so Holly lay back, breathing heavily from the sheer agony she had felt. Only then did she take another look at her surroundings.

Not too long ago she had been underground, surrounded by stone and darkness. Now, in a ridiculous change of scenery, she was sitting on a tropical beach, surrounded by pristine sand and washed up seaweed. Of course, the burning shuttle to her right broke the scene, as every soothing wave upon the shoreline was punctuated by the roar of flames and small explosions from within the wreckage. Holly sighed, looking upwards to see black smoke mingling with a clear blue sky. Truly, if this was the sort of vacation the divines had in mind for her, it was in very poor taste. She cursed under her breath and, glaring at everything, got to her feet, her broken leg having been mended by her magic. She was lucky that she had no other major injuries, though she likely had many that were healed before she had awoken. It was best to not think about _then_ , and focus on _now_.

The elf, all covered in sand and mud, looked towards her ship and saw her pilot's seat partially embedded in the sand a dozen meters in front of it. It would seem that the ejector seat had worked—only after her ship had collided with a small hill. This made her frown, but she could not complain. Had she been in that ship, she would be dead. So too, had her buckles not snapped at the right moment, would she be dead by being crushed by her own ejected seat—ironic, and terribly disgraceful. Overall it was a bizarre but merciful alignment of chances that had saved her life, and as she gazed at the destruction, she silently thanked the gods.

Holly then walked back to her ejected seat, moving noiselessly upon the sand. The seat had an emergency survival kit in a compartment on its back, which she took and slung over her back. It was only scorched by a passing laser shot, so it would still be useful—unlike almost everything else. There was also a pulse rifle mounted vertically in the compartment, and luckily it too was unharmed; to have only her neutrino at a time like this was not an appealing thing. With a fierce expression she took the combat rifle and, after checking it over, held it readily in her hands. Now fully geared up and armed to the teeth, Holly glanced around the shoreline, her hazel eyes—so lit up by the sunlight and fire alike—searching for threats. She was alone, for now, but it was clear that this place was inhabited by her enemy. The lack of their immediate presence made her wonder how long she had been unconscious for, because in all honesty she had torn through the heart of their facility with a blazing ship and carved through a kilometer of forest, leaving a nice big bonfire at the end. Judging by the progression of the fire, and the position of the sun, it had been no more than three minutes. She didn't want to think about what would have happened had her enemy caught her in such a vulnerable position, but even as she scanned her surroundings, dark premonitions rose up to disturb her, bringing to mind all the things that may happen next. Again she ignored them, instead skirting around the burning wreckage of her ship and climbing up the sandy hill that stood between her and the forested inland. From there she could see the trail of destruction she had left, and the small mountains in the distance from which she had emerged. Nothing moved but those trees, swaying slightly in a warm tropical breeze, but this did not make her feel any more secure. If anything, this stillness was unsettling, unnatural, and outright foreboding.

As a cadet, she had been taught about this sort of situation. Crashed on the surface, unable to call for support, and deep behind enemy lines, were all important considerations in the academy with regard to proper survival methods, but despite that training Holly was not very inclined to follow it to the letter, not because it was wrong, but because the first order of business it would recommend was building a bivouac. She had better things to do than making a cozy camping spot, such as not getting hunted down and killed by her enemies. She needed to get on the move, and stay that way until she could determine what exactly she was up against. Stopping only meant making herself an easy target.

Quickly moving across the short stretch of sand, Holly entered the forest, going from a world brightly lit by the sun into one cast in shadow and filled with the convoluted organization of nature. Pandan, coconut palms, ferns, and numerous other flora completely covered the earth, enveloping it in a cloak of greens and browns, a stark contrast to the lifeless sand behind her. Tropical flowers and fruits could be seen regularly, and Holly, despite being in the worst situation of her professional life, took a moment to gaze upon it. This was actually the first time she had been in such a forest—all of her past surface missions had been around Europe. Still, it was an appreciation that soon passed, like all pleasures amidst the hard moments in life. With a firm countenance the elf moved on, pressing through the foliage and distancing herself from the crash site as efficiently as she could manage. She could still smell the smoke, and see the glare of fire through the gaps in the trees. Only after a few minutes did it fade away, leaving her truly submerged in the forest, alone for the time being.

The heat was stifling, and the humidity clung to everything, leaving droplets of water that glistened in the rays of sunlight that broke through the thick canopy above. Holly trudged onward, up the rising landscape, ignoring her discomfort and focusing on her surroundings. Wiping condensation from her cracked visor, she glanced upwards to the sky, which was visible through a break in the wondrous ceiling of the trees. It was only morning, and it was going to be a very hot day. _Just perfect for running through forests and getting shot at,_ she thought, absentmindedly slinging her pulse rifle over her shoulder.

No sooner had she done this when a familiar sound rolled overhead, and upon hearing it her eyes went wide and her whole body rigid; a fight or flight response, natural and yet astonishing in its abnormal rapidity. She was suddenly shouldering her pulse rifle, out of instinct, and her gaze was directed upwards towards the gaps in the trees. There was a ship coming, and fast. She could not remain in the open like this.

Holly wasted no time in sprinting through the brush in search of adequate cover; she ran and ran, swiftly over the treacherous terrain, determined and yet loathe to flee like a hunted animal, which she technically was. There was no helping it. She found her refuge after vaulting over a log and landing waist-deep in muddy water, and despite this setback she pushed towards it quickly. A recently uprooted tree had formed a small haven with its roots, which still had tenacious earth clinging to them in massive clumps. Holly rushed underneath the cover of earth and root and pressed herself as deep in as she could, facing outwards with her rifle ready. She was breathing heavily, and her whole body was ready for a fight, but she remained dead still, fighting against her natural urges and becoming one with the uprooted tree. The sound of the incoming ship had reached its peak by now, and it ushered in the shadow of the vessel passing overhead. It was moving at moderate speed, clearly towards the crash site. Holly waited, listening carefully, and only after there were no signs of the enemy did she let herself move. With a relieved exhalation she slid down to a sitting position, and though she still kept her weapon directed out into the forest, she let her body rest. She was tired, so very tired, and she only seemed to notice now. It is remarkable how people can ignore the natural forces that assail their mortal forms when they are in crises. Fear, more than anything it would seem, drives all mortal things to push beyond their perceived limits, and Holly was certainly afraid, as anyone would be in her position. However, that fear was natural, and she managed it well, keeping her mind on a proper track rather than falling victim to it. If there was anything that would save her now, it was a clear head. She needed to think right, or die.

Giving time for herself to calm down, Holly took off her cracked helmet and set it on her lap, letting the fresh air touch her face and fill her lungs. It was the sticky, scented air of a tropical forest, but it was good—it was natural, with its own unique character, as Holly always found in nature's special little enclaves. As she enjoyed this relief, she tenderly massaged her leg, which was still a little sore after the healing and subsequent exertion. Once again she found reason to be thankful; she was lucky to be alive. This thought inevitably took her to the pressing questions that begged to be answered. She did not know where she was for starters, as not only were there no islands mapped out in the region she was operating in, but there was also no connection to the outside world. Her communicator, still on her utility belt, was still utterly useless, incapable of reaching any signals, not even those of human satellites. Something was cutting her off from the world, and the island, which was not supposed to exist, certainly had something to do with it.

"Great, I guess I'm on my own for now," Holly whispered as she stared out into the forest, her hazel eyes slightly narrowed. Indeed she was, though most certainly not alone. The entire island, she assumed, was being used by her enemy, and somewhere on it was Belenos. To know he was there with her was an odd feeling, in that it was like having some sort of dreadful mystery barely hidden yet within arm's reach. A hundred years ago her mother had uncovered the mystery of his clandestine ambitions, and had begun a small war against him and his allies. Now it was Holly, unearthing him again whilst his ambitions undoubtedly flourished. The connection was surreal, and despite the importance of keeping her eyes on the world around her, Holly let her mind temporarily lapse into reminiscence, settling upon the memory of Coral like a flake of snow upon a rose petal, gently and without a sound. In moments she was smiling, sadness and warmth competing on the battlefield of her countenance, and it was amidst the gloomy realm of her foes that she found her inner strength renewed by a force just as deeply rooted in herself. She may have been on her own, and she may have been hunted like a beast, but she was not at the end of her rope, nor was she through with her mission. No, her mother had taught her that in times like this, there was every reason to keep going strong. She had no reason to despair, not when she still had a sound body, a sound mind, and a rifle in her hands. Knowing her past performance, she was still very much capable of changing the tide. And she would—or die trying.

 **Unknown Location, South Pacific**

The glare of computer monitors and holographic displays was challenged by the haze of smoke that hung in the air like a weightless veil, reducing the light and giving the gloom more opportunity to expand its territory. Shadows crept from the corners, the nooks and crannies, all silent and perfectly innocuous, and yet so very ominous in the way they slowly advanced whenever the light was halved by thick palls of smoke. This sort of gloomy environment would not be pleasant to most, especially with the acrid smoke in the air, but for Major Belenos Æthelryth, it was optimal. He liked the darkness, the shadow, the outright insidious nature of it; he felt anything but oppressed in its realm, so much at home in its otherworldly hand. After so many years of battling himself and having to cope with his past failures, he had discovered that the darkness was helpful, very much a good friend, and so he had spent all of his time alone in it, where his thoughts could grow unabated by the world beyond—like a fungus growing in a dark, damp cave, the products of his mind flourished. Aside from that, it also attributed a degree of mysteriousness to his character, which his subordinates found highly intimidating. It served him well to be respected—and feared—by those beneath him, though it was always a struggle to decide which was better for a commander, to be feared or to be loved. Both had their place, though love mattered less at the moment. What Belenos wanted more than anything was objectivity, dedication, and results—commitment to the mission more so than the leader himself.

Belenos' face was the very image of these principles as he regarded the screens before him. He was watching a number of surveillance feeds, replaying footage and analyzing it in detail. A fungus cigar, now burnt down to its very stump, was in his right hand, and after taking one last pull from it the elf absentmindedly jammed it down into a tray, smothering its glowing end and bringing forth one last cloud of acrid smoke. His emerald eyes never left the main screen, and his solid countenance did not waver.

"Always expect the unexpected…" he said to himself, then taking his eyes from the screen and looking towards the wall. He pressed a button on his desk, and the wall suddenly parted in the middle, silently moving to either side and giving way to a flood of bright light. The elf didn't even squint at the sudden change in ambiance, as if his eyes could adjust instantly. Before him lay a view of the tropical island he called his own, through a window so clean that there seemed to be nothing between them at all. The forests and hills stretched out until they reached the glittering blue of the Pacific, where only a thin band of sand separated the two. He eyed it with a serious composure. This was his land, no, the _People's_ land, and it was the first piece of the surface to be reclaimed ever since the wars of old.

He had claimed the island after years of hiding in the lost tunnels beneath the Pacific, in 1895, and from then onward he and his remaining followers had created a refuge upon it, relying on technology to hide it from the humans and the Lower Elements Police. Their current nonexistence was in part due to a refractive barrier projected around the entire island and the reefs beyond, making it impossible to see visually or by any imaging technology; the rest was taken care of by a myriad of electronic countermeasures. Only once had the island truly been seen by humanity, back in 1902, when the refractive barrier had not been fully operational. A small portion of the reefs had been spotted by the captain of a French vessel named the _Ernest_ _‑_ _Legouvé_ , hence its subsequent name _Ernest_ _‑_ _Legouvé Reef_. Though it had been initially recorded, it was later deemed a phantom island by the humans, as by then it had been rendered invisible. The fact that the island's countermeasures had thrown off the French ship's compass and sense of direction the moment it came within a hundred miles also contributed to the fact that the island's actual location was a fair distance away, over three-hundred kilometers southeast of Ahurei, French Polynesia. It was a safe haven in which Belenos could work undisturbed on his plans of reclamation, and due to its very purpose he had decided to name it after the hill on which the People had made their last stand against humanity during the old wars. The Island of Taillte, as he called it, would be the place where the People, who were denied their victory and their heritage all those centuries ago, would once again rise to triumph and reclaim what was rightfully theirs.

Hence, Taillte was a prototype of the future, a taste of what it would soon be like to have it all once again. With a small piece of earth in the middle of the ocean it would begin, and from there entire continents would be theirs. It was a glorious image that gleamed in Belenos' imagination, and a slight smile almost appeared on his face despite all of his cold proclivities. However, any sense of mirth was washed away when he set eyes on the tower of black smoke that rose from the far end of the island. It put him in a dark mood to see once more that his countrymen were actively trying to get in his way. Just as before, he was given no choice but to wage war with his kin in order to help them. How many of them must he kill in order to truly save them?! _If only they could see the world as I do,_ he thought, watching as several of his ships flew over the tropical forest near the pillar of smoke. _It is a tragedy that we should fight like this. Turned against one another by an ignorance that even the humans cannot fathom!_

The door opened behind him, and despite the sound of someone entering he did not turn around. Instead he spoke coolly, not at all uncertain.

"Good morning, Captain."

Captain Vepar Cailleach, fully dressed in tactical gear, stood at attention behind his commander, his fierce visage ever a mask of imperturbability. "Major, I have urgent news to report."

"About the LEP's reconnaissance team, I know," Belenos replied, turning around now to look his subordinate in the eye with his own steely gaze. "The status of the search parties is what you are here to tell me about, correct?"

Vepar simply went right into it, showing nothing but pure dutifulness. "The crash site has been secured, however they have not found any signs of the pilot. He likely escaped into the forests beforehand."

"Why did it take ten minutes for our response team to surround the crash site, meanwhile letting the pilot escape?"

"The LEP ship crashed through the central hangar with its guns firing at random," Vepar stated immediately, ready for the question. "It shot up a number of our ships and caused a lot of confusion. Unfortunately it took us a few minutes to respond with adequate numbers."

"I see," Belenos said, seemingly content with the explanation—he had heard the initial reports and viewed the security footage beforehand, and found it to be conclusive of the current state of affairs. He could not blame his officers for not reaching the site in time. In fact, they had acted quite professionally—as much as one could get after an LEP ship ricocheted through the place like a rock and spewed lasers all over the place like a bat out of hell. Still, it was a perturbing situation, stemming from the failure to destroy the LEP forces while they were still underground. This made Belenos continue down another track of thought. "Lieutenant Zuriel assured me that he would not let anything through," he stated calmly, despite the evident displeasure of his words. "What's the current status of his squadron? I have yet to receive their report."

Vepar stiffened a little, for once a look of something—discomfort, perhaps even real emotion—showing on his intimidating face. "Sir, I regret to inform you that we lost two ships during the engagement with the LEP scouts. We managed to rescue one of the pilots before the collapse, but not Zuriel. The Lieutenant took it upon himself to eliminate their most skilled pilot, but his ship was completely destroyed in the process."

Belenos' brow furrowed just a little, though his eyes never betrayed his innermost feelings. "Lieutenant Zuriel is KIA, I would assume."

Vepar nodded.

It was with a slight frown that Belenos folded his hands on his desk, his emerald eyes now looking off into the distance of memory and morbid contemplation. Zuriel, what a fool he had been to throw away his life so hastily! What an unnecessary loss! The elf's frown deepened a little more, the undulations of his countenance now showing a little of the emotion he felt within. The Lieutenant had always been the most gung-ho of his pilots, a true fighter jockey in every way. He had served Belenos well during their time in the LEP two-hundred years ago, working alongside him in recon and in retrieval, and afterwards in the forgotten Laconus Incident. To hear of his death was naturally a disappointment—and a sorrow, of course—for he had been a comrade in arms, a brother in their mutual cause. He had only so many of those people left, all irreplaceable members of his old team, all more valuable than a thousand raw recruits; to lose one was a harsh blow, and to lose them all was unthinkable. Nevertheless, Belenos was not visibly upset. This was war, and that meant that there would be casualties. Zuriel had been too rash, and he had paid for it with his life. Such was the reality of war. Belenos swiftly went through all of this inner contemplation, and subsequently thought about the fact that his forces needed a new wing commander. "I see," he said calmly, unfolding his hands and looking at Vepar once more. "Appoint Lieutenant Purson to take over his command."

"Yes sir."

"Now, with regard to the LEP fugitive we have in our midst," Belenos continued, thinking now of the pilot who had bested his Lieutenant and warranted the deployment of half his forces. "Deploy retrieval teams one through five, have them take up positions around the search area." He paused for Vepar to acknowledge his command, also seeing in the elf's eyes a subtle eagerness that was not strong enough to make him blurt out his request. Belenos did it for him. "Your team will be assigned the task of actively tracking the target in the operation area. The other teams will cage in the target and coordinate with yours if necessary."

Captain Cailleach nodded stoically, though behind his veneer of dutifulness there was a great deal of anticipation. Belenos could see right through him, though his thoughts were on his foe, who was somewhere on the island nursing his wounds. It was a debacle for sure, but it mattered little in the end. The island was not a large place, and the lone LEP pilot was surely not well equipped for a long operation. Sooner or later, he would be found. _She…_ Belenos corrected, an idea coming to him at the very same moment. There was no intelligence on who was piloting that ship, but judging by the way it was piloted and the sheer tenacity of its occupant, he could easily guess. Yes, it had to be her, most certainly. Once again the past and future met in the twilight of his plans.

"Track her down with all due haste," he said after a moment. "It is Captain Short we are dealing with, I know that now. She is too dangerous to be left wandering around our island." _She may blow the lid on my plan, just as you did a hundred years ago, Coral…_

"How do you want us to handle her?" Vepar asked, as stone cold as ever.

Belenos thought about it for a moment—whether or not to authorize lethal force against the daughter of his old friend. He had already accepted that she would have to die eventually, but now, when his words would be as potent as pulling the trigger himself, he thought again. Perhaps there could be other uses for her. Perhaps something could be gained from taking her alive. Or maybe, despite all of his years of being a callous soldier interested only in his mission, the old ties of friendship and respect still had influence in his heart. He didn't consider the latter, instead focusing on the rational motivations for the others. He made up his mind promptly.

"Take her alive if the opportunity presents itself, but do not let her escape, no matter what. If you need to kill her in order to accomplish that objective then so be it, just remove her from the equation as soon as you can." He paused, a slight smile appearing on his face—a bitter one. "Apart from Julius himself, and perhaps Vinyáya, she's the last officer I'd want roaming around here. You have your orders, Captain. Dismissed."

Captain Cailleach saluted and took his leave with an air of supreme dutifulness, and once the door was shut behind him, Major Belenos turned around again to view the tropical paradise that had become his reality—a paradise rife with dark secrets and wretched truths, all necessitated by the mission that was entrenched in the hearts and minds of all the forgotten soldiers in Laconus' ranks. Belenos watched as the pillar of dark smoke continued to rise and sully the blue sky with its filth, and could not help but think of all the smoke that would soon rise from the very heart of human civilization. He had it all planned out, but everything was coming to a climactic finish with the LEP on his tail. With the subterranean tunnels collapsed, his foes were cut off, because given the contrived method used to conceal the island they could not possibly find him from the surface. For now it was the same as before, a scorched earth strategy, cutting back and digging deep. All he needed was a little more time, and he knew that the only one who could really topple it all was Holly Short, who by fate and chance had ended up tangled in an affair that was as much a family matter as it was a military one. That elf continued to surprise him at every turn, and bring back bitter memories of a past life in which he had had everything and yet nothing. Belenos wondered, as his emerald eyes watched the smoke, what it would have been like to be on her side, to not have to kill each other. It brought him back to the days in LEPmarine with Coral, and the childhood they had shared as friends, but as quickly as the memories came he shut them out. It was too late for all of that. Far too late.

Outside the office, in the well-lit corridor leading through the facility's main level, Captain Vepar Cailleach walked purposefully to carry out his orders—which coincided with his desires, which he always suppressed due to his loyalty and professionalism. He wore the tactical gear that he had donned during the battle a hundred years ago, though it was heavily modified and improved to match anything the LEP could throw at them presently. On his shoulder was the insignia of Belenos' once esteemed brigade, _Drakon_ , bearing the image of a dragon, and his old beret bearing the same image was tucked in its pouch on his vest, faded and worn by time and use. Immediately upon exiting his commander's office he had come face to face with the rest of his squad, all of whom had been eagerly awaiting orders to engage the enemy that had so recklessly breached their refuge and had, in their eyes, killed one of their comrades. They were all fully geared up and armed to the teeth, ready for the mission at hand. When Captain Cailleach gave them the almighty nod, they fell in seamlessly, walking with a stoicism that bespoke the hardness of their minds and the purposeful coldness of their hearts. Others joined then, from other teams, bringing their total number to sixty operatives. Sixty versus one were quite the piled odds, and that wasn't even including the aircraft that would provide support or the three teams that were already deployed. Vepar had seen a lot in his years of military service, but he had yet to see a lone mortal singlehandedly best his elite soldiers, let alone half of Laconus' might. He was certain that this vexatious LEP captain, Holly Short, would either be in a body bag or in chains before evening.

 **Somewhere on the Island of Taillte**

The sun had reached its zenith in the gentle blue firmament, marking the end of morning and the coming of afternoon, and its warm, midday rays shot through the holes in the tropical forest's canopy like beams of pure gold, made all the more pronounced by the humidity and the vapor hanging in the air. Holly did not feel their warm touch as she trudged through the jungle, her rifle in hand and her recon gear covered in mud; her mind was on the very important task of staying alive, not the pleasantries of hiking through a tropical forest, which were quite few to begin with. She wore a perpetually serious expression, and her hazel eyes, so sharp and attentive to detail, scanned the convoluted world around her with great wariness. The enemy could be anywhere, and she wanted to see them first. In circumstances like these, victory was decided by the one who could pull the trigger first, often by a mere second's advantage. Holly did not want to lose her life because one of Belenos' cronies got the drop on her; the very thought of it made her sick.

Only ten minutes ago she had been forced to leave her refuge beneath the uprooted tree, once more cast into the tangle of the forest and all of its natural dangers—and potentially into barrels of her enemy's rifles. She knew that it was best to keep moving through the forest, lest she remain still and allow her foes to encircle her. Even still, it was just as hazardous navigating through the gloom, never knowing when a laser shot would fly out from behind all the obscuring walls of foliage. This made her nerves raw, and all of the sounds of the forest served to make it worse, as she was not at all used to a jungle environment; its smells, its sights, and its very atmosphere were novelties that she had never been exposed to. After those first ten minutes she found herself extremely on edge, and she chose to take a break on a relatively dry patch of ground beneath a looming tree. There she let her nerves lose their biting edge, and in the meantime she continued to listen to the world around her, memorizing the natural sounds and movements of the forest so that anything else would stand out to her. Her field rations provided enough energy to last her awhile, and her standard-issue purification canteen let her drink any water she came across without worrying about sickness. During this brief breather she had her fill of such essential things, as there was no knowing when she would be able to do so again. She also ensured that her gear was properly modified. The fact was that her helmet, communicator, and weapon had small chips inside of them that were meant to be tracked by her colleagues in Haven—though they did little against the island's countermeasures—and naturally she assumed that Belenos could track her via them as well. With her combat knife she had removed the chips and any other locating equipment to the best of her ability, leaving it hidden in her previous hiding spot in hopes that the enemy would waste time surrounding it. Yet having distanced herself from the decoy, she felt no more secure. Though her recon gear masked her heat signature from imaging technology, it did not make her invisible, and she certainly could not maintain a shielding with what little magic she had left. At one point or another, Belenos' operatives would find her, and as she took her breather the elf silently went over her training in her head, preparing herself for the inevitable. It was all about survival now, the most fundamental of goals for a living creature, and piled against that objective were a number of fairies who had received the same training as her and had decades more experience. To think that she was up against foes who had once been in the same unit as her, and in retrieval, was a very sobering fact for Holly.

 _Just remember your orders,_ she told herself. _Do not die._

On her feet again, she pressed through the thick foliage with one hand while keeping her pulse rifle handy with the other. It was not a minute later when she heard the distinct sound of waves moving gently against the shore, and that made her check the sun's position to confirm that she had not been going in circles. The absence of smoke or enemy ships were further confirmation that she was not at the same shoreline as before, and so, with great care, she climbed over a fallen tree and peered out into the startling brightness of the day.

Beyond the forest was a small cove, no more than two-hundred meters across and three-hundred in from the sea itself, though it was packed with unnatural contrivances, all rusted and contorted by decay. There were several human vessels, of numerous origins, run aground in the shallow inlet, and Holly regarded them with particular interest, now walking parallel to them just within the tree line. The one closest to her had once been a warship of some kind, and it was now tilted on its port side, its massive turrets in disarray and the barrels of its guns frozen in their final directions, never to fire again. Rust had overrun its metal surfaces, though she could make out a faded insignia of red and white—a rising sun—on its side, as well as a few other telltale markings of a ship from the days of Imperial Japan. She passed it by without a word, feeling its shadow upon her, for it was looming no more than ten meters from the forest itself, run up on the shallows. Further still were other ships, two of them being bulk cargo carriers, and another a small research vessel—their names, as could be read in nearly illegible faded letters, were _Kairali_ , _Berge Vanga_ , and _Kaiyo Maru_ respectively. Holly circled round the cove, focusing on keeping aware rather than gazing at the mysterious sight of ruined human ships, which tended to inspire great interest in most fairies due to their sheer size and utilitarian design. Holly reached the far end of the inlet in a few minutes, where she found a small river flowing from further inland. She followed it into the woods and found, hidden in the myriad of greens of jungle foliage, yet another human vessel, this one a submarine likely from the second world war, washed up the stream by an unnaturally large wave perhaps. It was overgrown with vines and other plant life, but when Holly stopped by its bow—where its large torpedo tubes stood open like ominous rusted maws—she could make out _SS-369_. It too was crumbling to time and nature, lost to its makers and destined to remain half-submerged in the muddy river, which would one day be its tomb. Just like most of the relics of the human wars, it was fated to fade away, returning to the earth for a peaceful sleep, silent for eternity despite all of the mayhem it had been part of in its life. Like the others Holly left it behind without much pause, though when she stopped to take a drink from the river she could not help but wonder what had happened to those aboard them. Given the island had been hidden from the world, they were surely not rescued. This gave her an ominous, dreadful feeling, one that she brushed aside as she carried on. She could not think about such morbid things, not at a time like this.

Having passed around the cove, Holly set her eyes on the hill ahead, leaving behind the inlet and its rusted vestiges of human influence. Her objective this entire time had been to move towards the higher ground, and now she was following the river to where it sprung from the looming hills. This goal was in hopes that she could still get a signal with her communicator, or at the very least broadcast a distress call. It was a slim chance, but sometimes one had to act on that very chance, lest no action come at all and, by extension, no positive change. With that sliver of hope urging her onward, the elf followed alongside the gentle stream, which was so beautiful in the rays of golden light that even she, in her desperate situation, betrayed a faint smile. There was always beauty in the world, even in the darkest of times—one just had to believe it was there, just as one believes that there are stars behind a clouded sky.

Facing a ridge, Holly began her climb towards the summit of the first mountain. She moved carefully through the brush, trying to limit her noise, and out of instinct she crawled the last few meters up the first ridge, keeping herself hidden in the grass with her rifle nearly shouldered. When she peered over the edge of the hill she immediately felt her pulse increase, as standing several dozen meters away, spread out in a textbook infantry formation, was a group of ten heavily armed fairies. They had not heard her approach, but they were clearly guarding the hillside in the event that she, their prey, tried to climb it. Holly remained still in the grass, her rifle aimed at the nearest enemy and her eyes analyzing their gear. They had an impressive array of weapons, and their armor was clearly modified LEP issue. It only took a moment of thought for Holly to deduce that there were other groups as well, probably occupying strategic positions in all directions. Like a real hunt they were enclosing her ever so slowly, giving her less and less room to run. _D'arvit, how am I going to get out of this cage?_ Holly thought as she slowly backed down the slope. No sooner had she thought this when she saw movement to her far left—another group, same in number and armament, though advancing this time. She swore under her breath, realizing that she could not move at all now; if she wanted to remain unseen, she had no other choice than to stay in the concealing foliage around her. Knowing this, she carefully rolled on her back and held her rifle readily. Only a fool would think that they could hide forever in such a spot, but an even greater fool would try to run away. She had no option.

For one minute Holly waited. The sound of the enemy patrol got louder and louder, their footsteps and hushed chatter closing in on her with unchangeable certainty, and when they were nearly upon her the elf tensed up, waiting for the sight of one of her foes to appear through the foliage. Most of them were below her, moving across the hill, but one of them just so happened to move on a direct line with her hiding place. Seeing through the small gaps in the grass and shrubs, Holly watched as he closed in—being covered in mud and leafs, she was harder to see. It was intense, seeing him approach, and Holly felt every fiber of her being scream for her to do something, but she could not. She waited with her weapon powered up and her finger just over the trigger. She was absolutely certain that he would walk right into her, and she was about to open fire when the operative stopped in his tracks, evidently hearing someone speaking in his helmet's headphones. He quickly motioned for the others to stop, and so they did, all right by Holly, who could not believe her luck.

"Team seven has intercepted the tracking signals," the group's leader, the elf closest to Holly, said to the others. "Decoys, torn out of the equipment. Tracks indicate that the target was heading southeast, past the cove. Eyes sharp comrades."

Holly was dead still as she listened to the chatter, and it was torturous having to remain that way as the other group of fairies on the ridge joined the one before her, luckily walking around the brush she was hiding in and not bothering to search it. They seemed convinced that she had yet to reach their position, and as they passed her Holly felt a ray of hope. If she remained like this, they may continue onward down the slope, therefore giving her an opening to escape through. Determined to accomplish this, the elf ever so carefully pressed herself against the ground in an attempt to be even less noticeable to the group of twenty fairies who were no more than a few meters away. As if the gods hated her guts, there just so happened to be a twig beneath her, and when she pressed downwards it snapped with a very audible sound. It was at that moment, despite all of the sudden indignation and anger that she felt, that Holly simply reacted before her enemy could.

As the group of fairies was spinning around to see where the sound had come from, Holly aimed her pulse rifle in their general direction and, remaining on her back amidst the undergrowth, opened fire with a godly vengeance. Shots spewed out of the barrel of her rifle, lighting up the shaded forest with their blue glow, and with an unrelenting storm of high-level charges they tore into the gathering of armed fairies, who had had only enough time to shoulder their rifles. For them it was a terrible experience, as they were suddenly met by a wall of neutrino shots from behind a concealing barrier of plant life, and despite their training they were utterly surprised. With Holly's pulse rifle firing at an insane rate of one-hundred charges a second, more than half of the Laconus operatives were knocked out before they could dive for cover. The rest, dispersing and throwing themselves behind whatever cover they could find, laid down a barrage of suppressive fire. Holly was already on the move, bursting through the brush and avoiding their counterattack by a hair's breadth, all the while taking precise shots at anything that moved.

With breakneck speed and brutal intensity the elf sprinted across the slope and broke through the enemy line, leaving fifteen of them unconscious and the other five seething with rage. Laser charges chased after her, tearing apart the jungle around her and sending clouds of splintered wood and mud flying through the humid air, but none of them struck her. Holly felt lucky as hell, but it was far from over, as now the enemy knew her exact location. This was confirmed by the sight of a number of fairies breaking through the thick foliage below her, at the bottom of the small hill. Holly turned as she ran, intent on pinning them down as she crossed their line of fire, but at that moment her left foot slipped on a particularly muddy surface, bringing about an embarrassing moment that passed in slow motion, to which all she could say was an incomplete "Oh shi—!"

Holly was suddenly upside down, sliding down the muddy slope towards the approaching team of hostiles, who were halfway up by this time. _Gods dammit!_ she thought as she rolled head over heels; she could not stop from sliding down into her enemy's hands. Out of sheer determination she righted herself, shouldered her rifle, and opened fire as she slid towards her enemy. It took her only a second to reach her bewildered foes, and she slid right past them, dropping several as she did so. Her descent was out of control by this point, and with a number of curses she tumbled and rolled amidst a hail of laser fire, feeling several times the close calls that melted her gear and scorched her body.

Like a wedge of cheese thrown down a hill, the elf careened through the thick brush and bounced off of several hard surfaces, and it was while flying midair that she broke through the thick underbrush and flew into an open space. Time was very slowed by the view she received, because she saw that she had rolled right into the mouth of a rocky crevice. It loomed below her, filled with shadow, and all she could do was wonder at how unfair it was before she collided with its solid edge. She felt something break as she collided with the stone, but she still tried to grab hold and keep herself from falling—she believed that she could do so without trouble. Reality was a lot less forgiving, because she actually bounced off of the stone edge and fell head-first into the narrow crevice, and henceforth plummeted like a rock. For the next eight seconds she fell, bouncing off of the sides of the crevice and falling deeper and deeper into its depths. Her vision was blurred by pain and disorientation, and all she saw below her was darkness flecked with the white of rushing water. The next thing she knew she was submerged in a near lightless environment, carried along by a swift current and hammered time and time again into invisible rocks beneath the surface. All she could do was keep herself afloat, fighting for her very life against an impartial force of nature when, not moments ago, she had been fighting against an entirely different foe. It seemed to her, as she was pulled through the rapids that filled the bottom of the crevice, that the whole island was out to kill her.

Holly had no idea how long she was battling against the rapids, but when it finally calmed down and ejected into a shallow river she was gasping for breath. One final surge of the current had pushed her to the bottom, and after a few moments of struggle she had emerged, crawling up on the shoreline with exhausted haste. Her helmet, having been cracked long ago, had almost entirely filled with water, and she tore it off the moment she reached the river's edge, tossing it aside and gasping in precious oxygen to relieve her screaming lungs. All this time she was looking down, ignorant of the world she had emerged into, and after coughing a few times she looked up a little, just in time to hear a rough voice speak coldly from no more than two meters away.

"You look a little worse for wear."

Holly felt an icy fear pierce through her, and in that terror she looked up fully and saw a very intimidating fairy standing before her. He had a scarred face, and in his hands was a neutrino, aimed directly at her head. Behind him were nine other operatives, all of the same cold countenance, and they looked far more professional than the others she had dealt with. Many would be inclined to surrender at that very moment, but Holly did not. Instead, in a rash but courageous move, she reached for her neutrino pistol and drew it swiftly. She brought it to bear in a flash, but another movement, one faster than her, swatted the weapon out of her hand, sending it flying until it splashed on the other side of the river. Holly did not lose a second to this, as the moment her attacker disarmed her she reached for her combat knife while at the same time lunging towards him. Her knife glinted as it was drawn, and its edge made a slight sound as it swung through the air towards her foe's scarred face. Holly was determined to fight till her last breath, overcome by the madness of combat, but it all came to a sudden end when a laser shot forth from behind and, passing an inch over her right shoulder, struck the blade of her knife. The weapon melted instantly, and Holly stumbled over, landing on the muddy ground at her enemy's feat.

"Are you finished, _Captain_?" the stoic elf asked, looming over her with his weapon aimed. The way he spoke indicated the he didn't care whether she lived or died, and there was a hint of satisfaction in his hard eyes, which were very much the eyes of a professional soldier—and an even more professional killer. This was an elf who enjoyed the practice of war.

Holly stared back at him, and felt all of her confidence drain like water through a cloth. Out of the woods to all sides of her emerged more foes, adding to this feeling of helplessness, and despite her inclination to remain defiant in the face of incredible odds, Holly felt the beginnings of panic—and utter oblivion—roil in her heart. Was this it? Was this to be her final moment? It scared the hell out of her, the prospect of dying, and it was only when she had no means of fighting back that she truly felt its claws on her resolve. Her courage, as strong as it was, could do nothing for her now. All she could do was stare her foe in the eye, matching his gaze, and speak with an intentional amount of complete loathing.

"Not while I'm still breathing."

The intimidating elf, Vepar Cailleach, smiled just a little when she said this. "Suit yourself."

Holly saw and heard the firing of his neutrino, and felt the warm collision of its charge with her chest. All of her strength and fortitude melted away in an instant, as did her awareness of the world; her body went numb, and her muscles slack. The last thing she witnessed was the ground rushing to meet her, and the subsequent sight of numerous booted feet closing in around her. A muffled voice spoke, and a few laughed, but she could not make out the wording of its evidently humorous remark. Darkness followed, enveloping her completely with its smothering wings. At the final moment before it took her, she felt an incomprehensible terror, the fear of death gaining solid footing in her mind, making her truly helpless to its touch. Her very soul trembled like a leaf in a gale, and that fear followed her into the nightmares that rose from the blackened depths of what she perceived as her untimely death.


	12. Face to Face

**Lower Elements Police Headquarters, Haven**

"D'arvit…"

That was all Commander Julius Root could say to what he had just heard, his extensive repository of curses utterly useless in the face of the situation he found himself and his subordinates in. It was a terrible mess, an outright strategic blunder, and as one of the joint commanders of the task force he took it just as personally as he did professionally. It was a blow to his very conscience, though he did not show it to anyone. He merely contrived to display only his anger, made evident in his beet-red countenance and the furious fuming of his cigar. He knew that there was technically nothing wrong with showing other emotions, but he was a traditional soldier, and old habits did not die, especially when he viewed them favorably.

The grizzled elf sat back in his chair, putting one hand on his face while the other took his cigar and jammed it furiously into the overflowing ash tray. He had just finished debriefing Lieutenant Falryth and Master Sergeant Brooker, the officers who had been Captain Short's wingmen on her reconnaissance mission below the South Pacific. They had told him everything that had transpired, and combined with what little intel he had gleaned from other sources, Root had a very unpleasant picture of the overall outcome. He thought of it with a bitter expression on his crimson face. _I was a damn fool to make such an assumption…_

His orders for a reconnaissance had led to a disaster for his officers. Belenos had anticipated them, his forces had ambushed them, and Holly, being her usual reckless self, had jeopardized her life in order to ensure the safety of her comrades. It was admirable, but Julius was not currently appreciative of such self-sacrifice, not when he wanted his officers to survive more than anything. He didn't want more dead heroes. He did not want to oversee yet another funeral of another brave officer who had made the ultimate sacrifice. He did not want to feel the way he had felt a hundred years ago, not again, not ever. As was becoming the norm for her, Captain Short was becoming a veritable thorn in his side, though a very useful and prodigal thorn. That she would engage a superior foe and brave the collapse of an entire tunnel network was yet another mindboggling act that left Julius fuming, but this time his anger was not at all directed at her personally. He knew that she had behaved well under the circumstances, and her displayed great skill and courage. It was just the consequences thereof that unsettled him. After all, there had been no contact with the Captain for several hours already, ever since the collapse. Julius had written the subsequent paperwork himself, making strokes with his pen that he frankly wished to never do again. Holly was now officially MIA.

It was his assumption that Holly was either dead or in the hands of the infamous remnants of Laconus, and though he hoped it was the latter he could not shake the dread of that very same possibility. Belenos was ruthless, and he would not show mercy, not even to Holly. There was no telling what he would do to her in order to strengthen his position. Morality and reason had no sway in that lunatic's mind, only the madness that had grown from his hatred.

The most current object of Root's utter fury was the very obvious fact that the LEP had no present means of locating Holly or Belenos. No signals were present in the area, and there were no abnormalities to be seen topside in the Pacific, at least not with the satellite imaging. Root had been certain that one of the locators in Holly's gear would give them a lead, and they could thus ride in with the whole taskforce, guns blazing. Such a glorious counterattack was not to be, though it would not have been practical in the first place. Laconus, and thus Holly, were incognito, and what was so infuriating about it was that they did so right under Root's nose. He had a general area to search, he knew that there was a facility accessible from the destroyed tunnels, and yet he could not find it. _Hidden in plain sight,_ the elf thought angrily, clenching his right fist. _Belenos really outdid himself this time. Bastard…_ He moved to retrieve another fungus cigar from his desk, only to realize that he had no more left. He sighed, and regarded the official papers again, reading the lines and details with a cross expression. Currently there was little they could do, until they gained more intel on Laconus' position. Once they were found, however, there would be hell to pay, and Julius would oversee it himself. Though he hated the prospect of bloodshed, he knew that it was inevitable, and as commander he was determined to be in the middle of it, alongside his officers. He despised the sort of commanders who remained safe while they sent others to their deaths; he hated the ever-increasing lunacy of institutionalized warfare.

Feeling the weight of his immense responsibilities pressing down upon him, Commander Root put aside the papers and activated his communicator. He spoke immediately, in a gravely tone that matched his countenance. "Any progress?"

The voice on the other end was that of his least favorite centaur—yet paradoxically, the one he could not do without. _"I am currently running more diagnostics than all of those humans' newfangled supercomputers combined. Nothing yet, but I will keep on trying until I find something. You know I will not abandon her out there."_

"Neither would any of us," Root said gruffly. With the current crisis, he had had no choice but to bring Foaly on board, letting him in on the classified information that he had been denied for years. To say that the centaur had been pleased would have been the understatement of the century, as he was actually about as excited as a dwarf in a bank vault. That excitement—and all the smugness that had come with it—had been adequately pacified when he had learned of the situation, and most importantly, the threat to Holly's life. To see the centaur do a such a complete one-eighty from self-centered pride to utter selflessness was a rarity that Root had never seen—it was about as probable as seeing a bull troll engage in friendly conversation. Needless to say, the Commander did not find any real reason to regret letting Foaly on board, and many reasons to be glad. After all, that vexatious centaur was one of the few rising prodigies in his field, only equaled by Opal Koboi, the equally as narcissistic head of Koboi Industries. If anyone could find a needle in the metaphorical haystack of the South Pacific Ocean, it was him.

"Keep me updated Foaly," the elf went on. "I have a dozen ships scouring the surface, and if you pinpoint anything I can have them converge within ten minutes."

 _"Yes sir,"_ the centaur replied, oddly using none of his usual attitude; the crisis had made him extremely focused, melting away even his ironclad hubris. He paused after this affirmation, and then upon breaking through hesitation he asked the question that everyone in the taskforce was desperate to have answers for. _"Do you think she made it, Commander? Do you think she's still alive up there?"_

Root did not hesitate, speaking confidently despite the incertitude in his own heart. "I have no doubt about it. Captain Short is recon, and recon officers do not go down so easily. She's still fighting, I'm certain of it."

Though Foaly prided himself in being independent, he took great comfort in his commander's words. Being as he was, the centaur sometimes fell victim to worry and overthinking, both of which he was doing with regard to Holly's possible status. The sound of computers and a keyboard being typed upon could be heard as he spoke with a little more firmness in his voice; renewed resolve, bolstered hope, and a flaming desire to defeat the challenge before him. _"Right, I'll get back to it then, Julius."_

"I am counting on you," the elf said, for once not bothering to yell at the centaur for calling him by his first name. These were troubling times, and everyone was stressed. He set his communicator down on his desk, beside his smoldering ash tray.

Once again he sat silently, his brown eyes looking ahead as he thought about his opponent's moves. Belenos was doing the most logical thing, burning bridges and leaving nothing useful for his enemy to use. Scorched earth, that's what it was, and it came as no surprise to Julius, though it perturbed him nonetheless. Truly, after dealing with nothing more than unimaginative small fry for the last hundred years, it was a sudden and appalling change to once again be against a formidable enemy. All the cards were on the table, not even the wildest of them out of question; he could not afford to lose this dreadful game. Yet in spite of his constant planning, his persistent stacking of assets and pursuit of intelligence, Root felt as though he were fighting with one hand behind his back and a blindfold over his eyes. Indeed, though action was being taken, a part of him understood that much of what would come next relied on Holly, that is, if she was alive at all.

 **Laconus Headquarters, Island of Taillte**

Darkness and light, oblivion and awareness, faded between each other with a surreal rhythm that matched the beating of Holly's heart. Her vision, blurred by tearing eyes and disorientation, came and went in this fashion, giving her brief glimpses of a metal floor passing beneath her. A great numbness was holding her body fast in its thrall, and as a result she could not feel anything, despite the obvious fact that she was being dragged like a piece of dead meat, held between two Laconus operatives by her powerless arms. Neither was her hearing any better, so affected by the withdrawal of being shot with a neutrino, but she could nevertheless hear distorted murmurs and footfalls, which sounded far away even though they were right next to her. It was terrifying to awaken to such a state of weakness, in the very hands of the enemy, but such terror could not arouse any significant response from her body. She could not fight, she could not run, she could not even scream. She was trapped in herself, unable to control her own fate, like a ship cast into a squall without sail or rudder. The very epitome of fear was what she saw in this, and in all of her years she would never forget the might of its clawing touch on her heart and mind.

It was impossible to tell how long passed, for each relapse into unconsciousness could have been seconds or minutes, and the scenery never changed, nor did the motion. It was after a seemingly endless phase of disorientation and weakness that Holly began to regain her senses completely, which brought with them all the more confirmation of her terrible circumstance. Soon her ears let her hear the clear sound of a dozen pairs of booted feet, the shifting of equipment, and the gentle hum of charged laser weapons. The sensation of her body being dragged came next, marked by an agony in her arms as they were used roughly by the enemy to pull her along. There was so much pain, everywhere, exploding into her consciousness as if all that she had not felt during her numbness had accumulated and flowed in at once, like water bursting forth after the opening of a floodgate. She nearly cried out she was so surprised by it, but she bit her tongue to cut off the reflex, and subsequently clenched her teeth together out of pure agony. The last thing to recover was her vision, though not much changed when it did. There was only the gloomy metal floor, and intervals of overhead lights; she was still too weak to look around.

 _D'arvit…_ she thought, her mind inundated with anger, regret, and fear. Even a week ago, when she had been at the mercy of Belenos himself, she had not felt this way. It was hopelessness on a whole new level, so brutally unfair and unremitting. She tried to take a long, deep breath to help calm her screaming nerves, but the moment she did so a terribly sharp pain struck in her chest, the right side. Broken ribs, and that meant that her magic was all gone too. Weak, disarmed, captured, and running on empty—a wretched combination of misfortunes.

Holly remained limp in the arms of her enemy, letting them do all the work while her body recuperated what little strength it could. After a few minutes she found enough energy to look up, and when she did she saw the backs of several Laconus operatives, including the bald one who had shot her earlier. By chance alone he glanced back as she did this, and they consequently locked eyes for a frigid moment. Holly glared by default, and all Vepar did was regard her stoically and then look forward once again, as if he didn't care.

"She's conscious," he said after a moment, alerting the ones carrying her and those further behind.

Not a moment later the sensation of charged blasters could be felt at her back—several weapons were being pressed against her as a precaution, just in case she freed her arms, which she could not possibly do anyway in her state. This led to a doubling of her discontent, and she growled despite herself, her anger and frustration breaking through her honest veneer of exhaustion. She expected her foes to react in some way, but they did not. Whether they were amused by her anger or annoyed by it, they showed none of their emotions on the matter, instead remaining stoic and perfectly organized. This was further confirmation of the professionalism of these fairies, as unlike so many antagonistic groups would have done, they did not gloat or seek personal satisfaction in demeaning a prisoner. They followed their orders, down to the letter, carrying out every task with the same competence that was expected of LEP officers, and the fact that they had once been in the same force as her served to make Holly all the more uncomfortable. After dealing with petty criminals and generic villains for years, she was unsettled by the very nature of contending against those who had as much training and experience as her, as well as far more ruthlessness. Knowing this, and feeling herself going ever closer to whatever destination they had in mind, Holly stared at the floor and bit her lip until it drew blood. She didn't even care to see it dripping down as she went, leaving a trail of crimson splotches on the uniform grey of alloy.

Soon she was in a smaller room, one filled with screens and the distinct scent of cigar smoke, and as the door closed behind her she looked up to see a desk before her, and an open view of the island behind it. Between those two things was an elf seated in a high-backed chair, with the glow of the screens accentuating every line on his composed face so that even the wrinkles at the corners of his emerald eyes stood out like deep scars. Holly stared into those eyes, seeing their familiar coldness and feeling the raw, natural fear of the darkness they bespoke. She had seen them before, and yet like the first time she was struck by what she saw in them, bearing witness to the unreality of their subtle yet powerful madness. This was Major Belenos Æthelryth, leader of Laconus—a champion of rebellion, a master of deception, a symbol of the People's warrior blood. Holly could not take her eyes from him, nor did she want to. She held his gaze in spite of its power, silently challenging him and refusing to show more weakness than her appearance already did.

Having come to a halt, the other fairies let go of her all of the sudden. She almost fell on her face, but out of instinct and a sudden reserve of energy she caught herself and, after shaking for a moment, stood up tall and leveled her gaze against her enemy once more. Silence reigned as they regarded each other, each so devoted to their cause, so profoundly opposite in their ideologies. After a full minute Belenos shifted his gaze to Captain Cailleach, who stood to Holly's right.

"Leave us."

Belenos spoke only those two words, yet the gravity of his voice and the power of his countenance made them mighty beyond their simple meaning, grander than a brilliant soliloquy, harder than a mass of steel. Vepar saluted and then nodded to his officers, and together they respectfully left the room, ever the obedient soldiers. When the door had shut behind them Holly felt yet again the distinct feeling of entrapment. She was trapped in the very heart of a monster's vast abode, and though she was not bound by restraints she knew how powerless she was. Nothing but her jump suit protected her body, and the only weapons she had were her the ones she was born with; Belenos, on the other hand, had a heavily customized neutrino sitting on his desk, within easy reach and yet close enough to Holly to taunt her with the thought of trying to take it. Despite the urge, she remained still, knowing that anything rash would only get her killed.

Major Belenos regarded her for a few more intense seconds, and then gestured towards the chair that was to Holly's left.

"Please, Captain, have a seat."

Holly didn't even glance at the chair, and she remained standing, saying and doing nothing but upholding her defiant countenance. She refused to lower herself to his level, to sit face to face, eye to eye. She opted to stand, thereby towering over him by a foot which, though ultimately meaningless to her crisis, instilled a little more confidence in her troubled mind. Belenos didn't show any reaction at all.

"Suite yourself. Standing will only sap more of your energy, and you most certainly need it."

Holly could feel the strain on her limbs as she stood dead still. Indeed, her strength was waning, like the moon does come morning, her body still exhausted and bruised. The pain in her chest was significant, almost making her wince, but instead of letting the agony change her demeanor she focused her mind on Belenos, and this time spoke coldly.

"What do you want from me?"

Belenos did not answer her question outright. He took his time lighting a fungus cigar and, with motions exactly like another gruff elf, took a long pull from it. Smoke curled through the air as he exhaled, and his words, spoken calmly, followed with it.

"You have caused quite a lot of trouble on my island, Captain. No one has ruffled my officers' feathers like that since the old days, when Root was the one doing it. The damage you caused will take weeks to undo, and will cost me a fortune in black market transactions."

"I do my best," Holly replied, not at all intimidated. She was glad to be a pain in the ass.

Belenos' brow furrowed a little, a harder glint in his eyes. "I lost a good comrade as well, though his rashness was far more to blame than your unorthodox piloting methods."

Holly knew that he was referring to the pilot who had died in the cavern whilst trying to chase her. "I did not come here to kill anyone, Belenos. I came here to stop you, and all of this madness, once and for all."

The Major's cold eyes bored into hers, their ominous appearance enhanced by the pall of smoke that swirled around him. "If that is truly your goal, Captain, then you will have to start killing us. We are far too determined to let anything shy of death put an end to our efforts. Our mission is far too important, and for a hundred years we have been walking its path. There is no going back now. This war is all we know."

The elf's words were only the confirmation of what Holly already knew and dreaded. She had seen the look in Belenos' eyes long ago, and had known his radical dedication. Now made all the more evident by his very words, the inevitability of more conflict set in, darkening Holly's mind and bringing morbid thoughts. She hated all of it, all the violence, but she knew that she was bound to continue it. This was the burden she would have to carry, that is if she made it out of there alive. With this on her mind, she carried on, acting confidently despite her circumstance.

"You cannot keep this up forever. Sooner or later my colleagues will find you, and then Commander Root will bring you down. That is a certainty and you know it!"

"You act as if they can simply do a sortie and spot me with binoculars," Belenos said coolly. "I assure you that not even the LEP with its current technology can pinpoint this location. This island is hidden, nonexistent, beyond the reach of your comrades. They may be searching—I have tracked their ships on my sensors—but they will not find you. No one will." He breathed out another swirling mass of smoke, his eyes glinting in the half light. "Despite your outward confidence, Captain, you must know that you are in no position to make demands or statements of certitude. This is a fight that you cannot hope to win, and you are on your own in it. That solitary fight ended the moment you were captured." He leaned forward a little, his face displaying nothing but firm resolve and careful thought. "Your part in this is over."

It was difficult to contain her anger, but Holly did not let herself lose control. She hated Belenos' cold certainty, his arrogance, his unshakable confidence in himself. These were things that she could not stand in villains, in those who stood against all that was good, and she was inclined to say so aloud. Though she stood on weakened legs and felt pain throbbing due to broken ribs, she bore a strong countenance as she spoke her perceived truth. "You're wrong about that, _ex-Major_."

"Perhaps," Belenos said with surprising honesty. "I never fail to consider alternatives, and I did not approach this business without considering those costs. But what if you are wrong, Captain? What if all of your confidence, your belief in yourself and your comrades, proves to be in vain? That too I have experienced, back when my triumph seemed assured." The smoldering end of his cigar flared as he used it, and then settled into a gentle glow when he set is aside. Smoke and words entered the air, accompanied by the elf's disconcerting gaze. "Back then, when I had the means of taking control of the People's weak government and bringing them to their rightful glory, I was blindsided by an old friend. Your mother, as you have likely been told. Her actions brought everything down upon me, destroying my plans, suffocating my ambitions. She undid decades of work in a matter of hours, and I am not foolish enough to think that you are incapable of doing the same."

 _Your damn right about that!_ Holly thought as she held Belenos' gaze.

The elf took one last pull on his cigar, and then jammed it into an ash tray. The embers were smothered, and a faint hiss escaped from the crushed end, accompanied by smoke. The whole time Belenos breathed out a long breath, showing for the first time a little bit of emotion, though too little to classify. He spoke stoically the next moment. "That is why you will not live, Holly. You are too much like Coral, too determined, too dedicated, too dangerous. I admire that in an enemy, but more so in an ally, and you and your colleagues should have never taken up arms against me. We should not be foes, we should be united in purpose, but alas we are not. It perturbs me that you and your superiors fail to see the necessity of my existence, the ultimate rightness of my aims. Your blindness is what has condemned you, and your courage has hastened it."

"You would have us go to war with the humans, commit genocide!" Holly retorted, her fiery temper beginning to rise in spite of her weariness.

"And what is wrong with that?" Belenos replied smoothly, as if he was stating a common fact. "They are our enemies, as have they been ever since the old wars. Hiding like spiritless cowards for centuries has not changed that, nor will it ever. The fact of the matter is that the People have two choices. They can either wait as they are doing now, ever the pacifistic rabble, while humanity grows and becomes more formidable, or they can take immediate action and destroy the mud men before they can match us. War is inevitable, Captain, the only difference will be who starts it, and I am in favor of preemptive action. The humans will discover the People eventually, and they will not hesitate as we are doing so now. They will destroy us."

Holly growled her response, filled with indignation. "Your idea of a bright future for our kind is to become like the humans? To become even worse than they are? Even they balk at the notion of war and genocide, certainly much more than you. Do you even care at all about the lines you are crossing?"

"I care about the People just as much as you do," Belenos stated evenly, his brow furrowed a little as if offended by the other's assumption. "I care enough to do something about what threatens them. I have enough strength and selflessness to sacrifice everything in order to secure their future. What have you done, Captain, apart from chasing petty criminals on the surface and handing out traffic tickets?"

"I haven't lost my mind for starters," she growled.

"You think that I am not sane?"

"I wouldn't sign off on your mental health."

"That's interesting," Belenos said thoughtfully, leaning back a little in his chair. "As one of the few intelligent people amongst humanity once said, doing the same thing over and over again, while expecting a different outcome, is the very definition of insanity. You and your LEP, the travesty it has become, simply perpetuate a nonsensical cycle of digging deeper and deeper into a state of defense, always giving ground to the humans' advances in technology and exploration. And yet, despite the fact that the People have been playing the same game of hide and seek for ten thousand years, you think that the future will be better? You believe that your cleverness will eventually pay off? You honestly think that the same policy, drafted centuries ago by a dead king, will achieve something different than it already has?" Belenos' expression darkened, becoming a mask of fierce conviction. "You have it all wrong Captain, all backwards like your leaders' perceptions. The People are collectively insane. They have gone mad in their weakness and will remain so until the humans are knocking on their doors with the barrels of their guns. Madness! That's all I see in your pathetic councils, your irrelevant politics, your limp-wristed strategies, and most certainly in your rigid commanders. I, on the other hand, see clearly. I know what must be done, and I know the results we will achieve. And, naturally, I know the price I must pay." He slowly pointed a finger at Holly in an accusatory manner. "You, Captain Short, do not understand what it takes. You cannot appreciate the lengths to which a fairy must go to contend with a foe as cancerous as the humans. You can thank Commander Root for that faulty view."

"He's a good commander, far better than you could ever be," Holly retorted, returning fire.

"You're right, he is," the other said. "He's an excellent leader, but he subscribes to the most outdated of paradigms. He refuses to change with the world, to realize the new rules that we must play by in this grand game of survival. He is blinded by his arrogance—entrenched by faith in the old ways—and thereby blinds all who serve under him. I can see how well he has indoctrinated you."

Holly lowered her head a little, looking downwards at Belenos with a threatening glare. "I'm not as malleable as you think."

"Believe whatever you like, Captain. It matters little in the end. After all, you and your useless police force are not the ones who are going to be responsible for ushering in a new age of dominance for the People. I am content to be that agent of change. If only you did not provoke me, you'd survive to see that day."

"I'd rather die than let you win." Holly said this with surprising ease, and internally she wondered at her own brashness; like one making a lofty promise, only to realize afterwards its true meaning. Belenos was unimpressed.

"Be careful what you wish for, Captain Short. You just might get it in full."

"If that means stopping you, so be it," she growled, further digging herself into that commitment.

This time Belenos shook his head, as if bearing witness to an avoidable tragedy, and spoke with placid tone that was slightly fringed with ice. "You are too quick to throw your life away, just like Coral. She had so many chances to escape, to live, but she carried on in her path, even when she knew that her destruction was at hand. She would not want you to follow her in that respect, but I doubt you will back down, what with that appalling tenacity flowing through your veins. It would seem that you are doomed to repeat her sacrifice, though this time it will be for nothing. You cannot win this war, Holly. You can only hope to survive it."

"I would say the exact same thing about you," Holly rasped, wincing as the pain in her chest grew worse. "Sooner or later you will answer for your crimes."

"Later, I will. But not until then, and by that time my work will be finished. When all is done, I will gladly face judgment. As I said before, I know what I must sacrifice, and I am prepared to do so."

There was not much Holly could say to this. Belenos was adamant in his position, completely immovable, and any words she could throw at him were smoothly turned against her or made irrelevant. There was nothing she could do, but this did not surprise her. She knew that she was on her last stretch, her final legs, and her desperate attempt at defiance was bound to fail. If only she were not so weak, so trapped, so defenseless. Once more her eyes glanced towards the blaster on Belenos' desk—at her only true chance of turning the tide. Temptation came to her, rallied by her fear and determination alike, and so powerful was it that it almost forced her into action. But she stopped herself, after that moment of reckless thought, and returned her gaze to Belenos. She knew that he would be faster than her, and even if he was not, there was a small army of armed fairies waiting just outside the door. Only a fool—or someone who thought Hollywood films were realistic—would try to go for the weapon. Her choice was the right one, as not a second later Belenos smiled a little.

"You made the right decision."

"I made the only real one I had," Holly rasped through barred teeth.

"You chose nonetheless," Belenos stated. He grabbed the neutrino and holstered it, and then rose to his feet. Now he stood at eye level with her, in fact a whole inch taller. "It is good that we were able to meet each other once more," he said coolly. "I believe our last encounter did not offer the right impressions, certainly not for you. But now we both know each other well enough to have clear perceptions. I see you as you are, Captain, and you see me for what I truly am, in the midst of this forgotten place." He walked around his desk, placing himself face to face with Holly, who stood her ground despite her inclination to keep a distance. "Now that we have dispensed with the formalities, I would like to move on to the real matter at hand, the one concerning your fate."

The door opened behind Holly, ushering in the sound of footsteps and charged weapons. A dozen Laconus operatives gathered behind her, though she kept her eyes on Belenos; she could envision well enough their aimed weapons and heartless expressions. With this being the climax of her encounter with a devil, she chose to match his gaze. He waited until she did so to speak.

"Despite my colleagues' opinions, I think that you can be of some use to us, information wise of course. I will give you this one chance to tell me everything about you taskforce's operation, especially what your commanders briefed you on. You are no doubt privy to a certain degree of classified information, which is quite valuable to me, especially since I was forced to kill my informants. If you comply and speak truthfully, I will consider sparing your life, or at the very least giving you a painless death."

Holly knew that the promise was a lie—she had known long ago that Belenos would kill her, and he had said so himself. No amount of conditional promises could change her mind. She knew that Belenos had condemned her already to die in obscurity, no matter what she did now. And so, with that certainty of undoing in her mind's eye, Holly set her jaw and spoke the words that would seal her fate.

"No."

Belenos' face did not change, nor did his voice as he replied. "I knew you would say that. It is exactly what your mother would have said. So predictable."

He kept his eyes on her, but made a slight gesture with his right hand. Not a second later two pairs of strong hands grabbed Holly from behind and pulled her off balance, making her fall backwards into the care of two of Vepar's officers. They locked on to her, unshakable, and began to drag her away. Holly said nothing as this happened—she had expected it—and though adrenaline coursed through her veins she did not fight it. This was something she could not change, but perhaps she would get another chance. And so she was pulled from Belenos' office, and the Major watched her leave with his trademark placidity. He seemed to feel nothing at the prospect of her doom, just as he felt nothing towards the use of genocide. The last thing Holly saw of him before the door shut was him reaching into his pocket and extracting another fungus cigar—a move that was done out of casual habit, or perhaps to stave off a concealed discomfort.

Holly knew that she was going to be interrogated. She could sense it, and frankly it was obvious, what with a small army of armed fairies escorting her into the depths of the facility. They took her down a short elevator ride—which with fairy tech meant quite a distance—and then forced her through a narrow corridor, which was gloomy and bereft of the splendid cleanliness of the ones previous. Here there was the stench of fear, pain, and death; Holly could sense it, intuitively, and like a cold dampness on an autumn morn it made her shiver. With this ominous atmosphere around her, she silently steeled herself for what was to come.

She had no intention of complying, and even as she was shoved into a small, poorly-lit room, she did not question her ability to do so. They could do whatever they desired, she would not break; she would not divulge secrets that they could use against her comrades. This was her resolve, carved in stone, and it protected the sense of responsibility that she saw as sacrosanct. She would not betray anyone, and she would certainly not betray her own sense of right and wrong. When she was finally allowed to come to a standstill, she observed the contents of the chamber that would be her personal hell for the next hour. There was only a metal chair, bolted to the floor, leaving nothing but open space around it. She was not forced to sit in it, in fact she was led by the barrel of a gun to stand beside it and turn around to face her captors. There were six of them, all of which she had not met before, and they eyed her with a subtle darkness that made evident their intentions.

"Last chance to talk," the lead interrogator, an elf known as Lieutenant Elgose, stated placidly, meanwhile holstering his gun and stretching his fingers.

Holly knew what was coming, and spat her words with great animosity. "Go to hell."

A pair of hands held her fast from behind, while Lieutenant Elgose stepped towards her. He stood only a foot from her, and spoke softly.

"You have balls, I'll give you that."

In a flash of movement he drew back his right fist and punched Holly right in the gut. The blow bowled her over, knocking the air from her lungs and forcing her stomach's contents up her throat. She felt her legs weaken, but the fairy behind her kept her on her feet, and so she received another powerful strike in the same spot a second later. This time something broke, and the hands on her shoulders let go. She gagged, both out of pain and reflex, and fell to the floor in a heap, where she lay gasping for air.

"That's for our comrade you killed," said Elgose, looming over her with a scowl on his face. "We've all been wanting a piece of you ever since you raised all that hell."

Holly looked upwards at her assailant, her face contorted by anger despite the pain that competed with it. "Is that all you got, coward?" It was not the best idea to anger them, but she did so anyway, and that began another session of agonizing beating. They kicked her over and over again while their leader stood back to watch. Their booted feet bruised her flesh and cracked her bones, and without magic the wounds remained, made worse with each angry strike that was landed upon her. All she could do was curl up in a ball and take it—she couldn't even fight, and she felt so pathetic. Over and over the painful strikes landed, each once eliciting a sharp agony in Holly's broken body. She could feel three more of her ribs break, her left arm above the wrist, several of her left hand fingers, and even her nose. Blood was soon running down her face; it got in her eyes, in her mouth, and filled her bleeding nostrils with its distinct odor.

"Alright, that's enough," Elgose said loudly. "The Major will have our heads if she dies."

The beating stopped, and Holly felt herself being picked up and shuffled over to the metal chair. She was still gasping for breath, tasting blood and bile in her mouth, and all she could perceive was the pain and the blurred sight of her captors. When they sat her down and secured her hands and feet to metal restraints, she felt a hand on her shoulder, and a sudden outpouring of magic. It was odd, but for some reason they were healing her. The magic flowed through her, mending the numerous fractures and lacerations, and stopped before it could really rejuvenate her body as a whole. When it was finished she looked around warily, wondering why. Lieutenant Elgose answered placidly.

"So that you don't die from what we do next."

He produced an injector, which was filled with a clear fluid, and held it over Holly's shoulder. She knew what it was, but she could do nothing about it.

"We need you to be physically ready for this. The serum is quite potent, easily enough to stop the heart of someone who is already severely wounded, but in your healed state you will be fine. Its effects are also lesser when used on someone who is half dead, so do not mistake the healing as a mercy. Now…" He pressed it into her flesh, despite her fierce expression and growled threats. "How about you tell us everything, starting from the beginning?"

Holly felt the injection as it happened, and was filled with disgust—it was a wretched violation of her mind and body. She could feel it coursing through her, and the odd sensation of it going to work in her brain was truly unforgettable. With her hands balled into fists and her teeth clenched, she tried to resist, but within a minute all of her efforts melted away, collapsing against the superiority of the truth serum. She heard her interrogators begin to ask questions, and despite there being no intention within her to do so, she opened her mouth and spoke openly about that which she had vowed not to reveal. The truth flowed out of her as freely as blood from a severed limb.

This humiliating experience lasted for fifty minutes, draining her of every piece of information she had regarding her taskforce and her commander's briefings. Her captors listened intently, recording all of it on camera and taking notes on their data pads, and once and a while they would interject to ask for clarification. Like some sort of casual conversation it went, civilized and fluid, and it made Holly feel sick to her stomach. There she sat, trapped in a cold metal chair, hearing her own voice and yet not even cognitively involved in speaking. It was as if she were confined to vision and hearing alone, observing an entirely different version of herself from within the prison of her mortal form, witnessing an interrogation that she was not actively involved it. This distance she felt from it, the whole appalling separation from it all, made her all the more humiliated. She had no control, no power, and like a cheap toy she was being used, all of her guarded knowledge laid bare by her own loosened tongue. It was the most demeaning experience of her entire life.

Under the influence of the drug, Holly was not capable of very involved thought, but she nonetheless saw the camera in front of her and deduced that Belenos was watching. While she sat in a confined, smelly room, stained with her own blood and humiliated, Belenos was enjoying the show in the comfort of his office, puffing on a cigar and casually analyzing her words. This would have filled her with an unprecedented fury, but her mind was numbed and her thoughts were cut short. Instead she remained slouched in the chair, speaking flatly and staring ahead with a pathetic, broken gaze, none of which she had the strength to change. When it was finally over, she remained in that inebriated state, and despite the fact that her interrogators had stopped asking questions she would randomly speak about more details they did not care for. Hearing this made Holly want to tell herself to shut up; if she had had the opportunity, she would have slapped herself in the face. But she could not, and so, as she was led through the narrow corridors like a child, she babbled like a lunatic.

This tiring ordeal—which left her drained of mental and physical strength—ended with the loud _bang_ of a cell door being shut. They had tossed her into the bare room with about as much care as a goblin lobbing a fireball, and had left her to groan on the floor. It took almost an hour for the effects of the serum to wear off, and by that time she was on the verge of losing her mind. The trauma of it all was something even she was not prepared for, and now that it was finished she was left in solitary confinement to stew in the terrible memories that burned at the forefront of her mind; they harassed her, accentuating her humiliation with every vivid recollection. More than once she yelled out, cursing fiercely, and on several occasions she banged her own head against the metal floor, overcome by an inconsolable rage. After several hours she simply gave up and lay flat on the floor, staring up at the featureless ceiling and thinking about nothing at all—and yet feeling so much it hurt. Complete silence followed, so powerful that her shallow breaths were loud in her starved ears.

For a long time she remained that way, the very image of defeat, though one could attribute it partially to severe exhaustion. Regardless, she was spent, incapable of thinking of a way out, powerless to change her situation. From her jaded perspective, she was dependent on Root and the others, who may not arrive at all. There was nothing she could rely upon, no certitude to cling to, and being so cast out upon a sea of unpleasant possibilities—including the likelihood of her own death—made her dread grow even stronger. Time passed with this sort of darkness tingeing her mind, giving strength to irrational fear and frustration, but as with all things there is a limit, especially with regard to the hearts and minds of those like her. In the midst of her psychological squalor, a determined voice spoke from within, admonishing her with a strong, demanding tone.

 _What are you doing Holly? You do not give up like this! You never do, and never will!_

This voice called to her from her heart of hearts, originating from the iron core she had developed over years of hardship. It cut through her melancholy, her fear, her anger, and even her immense feeling of helplessness, and lit the fires that had been so brutally extinguished by horrors and failures alike. Holly found herself thinking a little clearer, and she spoke to herself in a whisper.

"I have not given up…not yet…"

 _Then what are you waiting for, Captain?_

Holly honestly had no idea. It was so easy to slip into a cycle of lethargy, to lay still and be nothing at all, and now catching herself in that nonsensical state she wondered, truly, what had been the purpose of it at all. She came to realize how stupid, how pathetic it was to just lay down and accept fate like that; to think oneself powerless in the darkest moments of life, when at those times heroic action makes the greatest difference of all. It made her feel sick at her own weakness, at her rare lapse in character. She glared a little, and her eyes focused now not on the depressing grey of the ceiling, but on the inwardly contrived images of what she had to do. From the murky waters of depression and fear she emerged, rising forth from its chilling waves and seeing, for what felt like the first time, the sun that was her determination. Renewed courage, like rays of sunlight, warmed her frozen mind, thawing it out and letting her training kick in. Almost immediately she felt a rush of adrenaline, a surge of purpose, and a fire burning hot within her very heart. Captain Holly Short, despite all that she had been through, was far from being beaten.

Despite this transformation, Holly ingeniously remained as she was, looking defeated and exhausted on the cold metal floor. She did this for the camera on the ceiling, top left from the door, because there was surely an officer watching her for any indication of a significant change in behavior. As she stared upwards, looking as if dead, she internally seethed. Let them think her broken, let them believe that they had enough power to steal her courage away. Indeed, let them be ignorant of the true strength within her, and unaware of her victory over her own fear and helplessness.

Holly took the next few minutes to test her body. She did not do so overtly, more so barely moving her limbs in a fashion that did not look abnormal. It was quite ironic, how her interrogators had healed her wounds for their own purposes, as that alone left her physically capable. The wounds she had sustained before would have made any plan impossible. This reassured her greatly, because she was an elf who believed that she could overcome any obstacle as long as her mind and body were fit for it. And they were, as ready as ever, or at least she told herself this.

Anyone in her position would now think about how to escape, but she did not. She knew that there was no way out presently, and the only chance she would get was when the door opened next. But even then it would be foolish to try anything, as the guards were not stupid enough to approach her without their weapons aimed and a numerical advantage of six to one. No, she would not get her chance until the very last moment, and she knew what that moment would be.

 _All down to seconds…life and death…_

Holly had no illusions about her life expectancy while she was in Laconus' hands. She knew that they were going to kill her, the only question was when and how. Having already extracted every piece of useful information from her, they had very little reason to keep her alive, and Belenos, despite his evident respect for her, would not hesitate for long. That elf was a pragmatic and ruthless commander; he would not let his own emotions get in the way of sound judgment, and for him there was no reason to keep Holly alive and many reasons to kill her. As he himself admitted, she was too dangerous to be spared.

 _Let them try,_ Holly thought as she lay still, exploiting her position to rest her body for as long as possible. In silence she waited from this point onward, calculating what was to come in her mind, planning out her action and considering all of the possibly outcomes. Her training and experience merged together to grant her a clear picture, and with it she contrived a plan of action, one that was borderline suicidal—though, when going up against certain death, it was perfectly acceptable. In the end, like a person hanging by the end of an unraveling rope, she was forced to take a path of enormous risk in order to have a ghost of a chance at living. And even if she did fail she did not want to die on her knees; if her demise was truly meant to be, she would make it one worth remembering. Cowardice had no place in her heart now.

Shakespeare once said that while cowards die many times before their death, the valiant never taste of death but once. For Holly, valiance would soon take her one of two ways—to taste the bitter drink from that fatal chalice, or to taste the sweet nectar of a longer life. Narrow would be its margin, as if by the impartial tossing of a coin, and how high was the cost! It was all or nothing, in this game of survival, and she would put it all on the line for that once chance, casting everything into play in a last-ditch effort. As so many had done before her throughout time, Holly was facing death itself, eye to eye with the imperceptible shade that haunts all who cling to life. It was her intention to win.


	13. Declaration

**Laconus Headquarters, Island of Taillte**

Death is a certainty that all must face, and an incomprehensible number of routes lead to that same destiny for all who perceive through living eyes and think with living minds. Natural is the fear of it, and even those who long for the afterlife dread that rite of passage, all but a few. Some, perhaps, can embrace their undoing, after full lives, having done all that they could have done, but most cannot, for truly there is no greater enemy than death—who makes all equal, who lays even the most powerful of creatures on their backs with but a touch. Immortality is but a dream, and if anything, the only aspect of life that remains forever is what one has done for the world rather than the self—actions, remembered, carry on memory, and the dead are never wholly dead until they are forgotten. Regardless of all of this, death is in many cases hidden, creeping, and sudden in its strike. As Julius Gaius Caesar once said, the most preferable death is the unexpected, for in it there is no room for dread, for sorrow, or for bitter regret.

How much more of an ominous presence is the death that is seen from a distance like a dark cloud, because unlike all other obstacles, it is one that can rarely me moved. Prisoners doomed to be killed by their nation's system of perceived justice, or people simply caught in a terrible circumstance from which no life can leave, must wait in horror as their departure nears, and there is no greater horror than that.

Holly Short, an innocent officer of the law, lay paradoxically on a de-facto death row, waiting in her featureless cell for the presence of her executioners. She did so stoically, lying still and thinking clearly, her hazel eyes closed and her mind focused. The difference for her, unlike so many in similar positions, was that she had a hope for living by her own actions, not dependence on others. She was not one to give up, and she never believed that there was a hopeless situation. She was facing certain death, but in her mind she was not. That infinitesimal chance, that hair's breadth of opportunity, was what she put all of her faith in, and she believed in her ability to seize it.

Even still, she was afraid, and when she heard the muffled sound of voices and footfalls, she felt that creeping sensation go up her spine. She remained silent in this fear, keeping a clear mind and a firm countenance in spite of it. Then the door to her cell opened, ushering in the looming forms of the fairies who were to be her killers. Three entered, and three more remained outside, and all of them were armed to the teeth. They quickly surrounded Holly, who was still lying on her back, and roughly got her to her feet. It only took a moment for them to secure her hands behind her back with handcuffs, and then she was marched out into the corridor.

Not a word was said during this time, with both parties behaving stoically—Holly like a proud officer unflinchingly facing her demise, which was not too far from the truth. The Laconus operatives were as cold as ever, carrying out their orders without hesitation and refraining from chatter while in the presence of their captive, though Holly could see a slight difference in their expressions, one that was almost undetectable. It was a mixture of unease and stress that she saw; it would seem that these soldiers, having once been in the LEP themselves, did not like having to execute an elf who, under other circumstances, would have been one of their own. After all, their mission was to destroy the humans, not the People, and so having to wage war with their own kind, however necessary, was tragic. Nonetheless, they had their orders, and they believed in them. This captain of the LEP recon division, this unorthodox elf named Holly Short, had to be killed before she undid all of Laconus' work. It was a small price to pay, but a price nonetheless.

Through the narrow corridors, and down an elevator, they took her, until they were on an even more barren level which had a simple concrete room at its end. There was nothing in it at all, clearly an unused part of the facility, and it was there that her captors had decided beforehand to take her. Any other place would have been inappropriate, but here they could make a mess and not have to worry about it. Belenos was not present, but there was a camera in the room like all the others, so he was likely watching. Holly had initially though that he would kill her himself, but now she knew that even he did not want to do it. Perhaps he could not bring himself to, or maybe he was just averse to doing dirty work while he had bigger things to do. Regardless, it left her with six officers who she had never met—strangers, absolute strangers, were going to kill someone they too had never even spoken to. It was ridiculous how impersonal murder could be.

Holly was brought to the center of the room, and when she stopped one of the officers spoke behind her.

"On your knees."

She complied wordlessly, feeling her knees touch the cold stone. Four of the officers dispersed, one to each corner of the room, while the other two remained directly behind her, silent despite all of the things they might have been inclined to say. It was at this moment that Holly focused on her risky plan, and all of it boiled down to just one act. It was a trick she had learned from Vinyáya, back in the academy, and as far as she knew none of the six fairies in the room knew about it. It involved channeling a precise amount of magic to a small area around her wrists, and discreetly exuding it from the body. This would generate a significant amount of heat, enough to burn certain materials—or affect certain electronics. Though it was originally meant to deal with typical rope bindings or zip ties, Holly had experimented with it on standard LEP cuffs back in the academy, when such restraints had been less robust. With the proper method, concentrated magic could short-circuit the cuffs and render them useless, and the cuffs binding her now just so happened to be the same model she had experimented on years ago. She didn't want to think about the consequences had they used the most recent model of cuffs. Thanks to the healing she had received earlier, her body had retained a tiny amount of magic, which she had kept stored away. Now she used that magic, ever so carefully, to save her life.

Behind her the two fairies said and did nothing. Only when one of them received a call on his communicator did anything happen.

"Major, sir," one of them, a gnome, said dutifully before pausing to listen. After a moment he nodded, and spoke without any perceivable emotion. "It will be done."

Holly felt her pulse increase dramatically, and felt fresh fear work its way into her mind. That was the go-ahead, the green light from Major Belenos himself, to execute her. She had only seconds to do something. _Come on! s_ he thought, gritting her teeth now as she carefully worked the magic at her wrists. She could not do it quickly, otherwise they would notice. It was a slow process, yet she needed speed more than anything!

A single pair of footsteps came from behind her, and a shadow loomed over her. She kept working, praying to the gods for another chance. The sound of a neutrino being primed nearly made her jump, and the cold voice that followed made her riskily accelerate her magic.

"Nothing personal, Captain. You know how it is."

"Yes…" Holly rasped, feeling the warmth of the charged blaster against the back of her head. "I do…"

Time seemed to stand still as she knelt with that weapon against her, with death so close. She threw caution into the wind, using every last drop of magic she had left against her restraints, and at the same time she pulled with all of her might. Adrenaline surged through her, and in that decisive second the locking mechanism clicked off, freeing her hands. This happened just as the gnome was pulling the trigger, and Holly, acting out of sheer desperation, moved aside with reckless speed. A shot blasted out a split-second later, screaming past her ear and burning into the floor.

She spun about, her hands moving swiftly, and grabbed the weapon from the surprised gnome before he could even blink—no one should have been able to move that quickly, but Holly did. Moving constantly and with that ridiculous speed, she pulled off the impossible. She continued to spin, using the momentum to land a powerful elbow into the gnome's temple, and at the same time she lowered the lethality setting on the neutrino in her other hand. As the unconscious gnome fell, and all the other fairies realized what was happening, she opened fire, seeing each target in the midst of the blurred vision that her speed caused. Five shots rang out in rapid succession, followed by the distinct _thud_ of five bodies, and then there was silence.

Holly stood amidst this sudden chaos, her senses in overdrive and her mind rife with the fury of combat. She was breathing heavily, sweating all over, and with wide eyes she glanced around herself, fear and anger in her gaze. Only when she knew that her foes were eliminated did she remember herself, and stop the fighting madness within her. But there was no time to rest.

Moving across the room, Holly grabbed one of the fairies' pulse rifles and then ran for the door. But before she could leave, she saw the camera on the roof, and felt an idea pull her. She stopped and looked straight at it, into the eyes of the elf on the other side, and told him to stick his cigar where the sun doesn't shine. Then she shot to camera to pieces. To say it was satisfying would have been an understatement.

With her newly acquired rifle in hand, the elf burst out into the narrow hallway and ran as fast as she could. There was nothing on her level, no other way out as far as she could tell, so she made towards the elevator. She was only hallway there when a siren went off, and two thirds when the elevator door opened. Three armed fairies emerged, but Holly was already shooting, and as they raised their weapons they received at least twenty shots each. Only one of them managed to fire, and the burst of laser charges went wide and left the wall to Holly's right riddled with smoldering holes. With her stride unbroken, the elf reached the elevator and, after looting two more neutrino pistols and a service belt from the pile of unconscious fairies, entered the lift. Given the options of up or down, she chose the latter. Belenos and most of his forces were above her, and her current objective was not to fight them, but to escape, regroup, and make contact with Haven.

The elevator hummed to life, but only after descending two floors it stopped abruptly, against Holly's will. She thought quickly at that moment, aiming her pulse rifle at the floor near the right side wall and raising its setting so that a single burst melted a hole. The elevator door began to open, and she did not hesitate to throw herself into the hole, through which she could see the shaft's emergency ladder. Holly plunged into the gloom of the beyond, and a second later the elevator door opened to a veritable firing squad—ten operatives spread out with laser rifles aimed. A storm of hot energy charges blasted the elevator apart, and Holly, hanging on to the ladder below it, could not help but wince. In three seconds the elevator compartment had more holes in it than it did solid metal, and its lower half snapped off and plunged into the darkness below, ending with a loud crash. Holly was on the move by now, descending the ladder as fast as she could, but the fairies above her peered out into the shaft and caught sight of her.

"Shit!" Holly rasped as a laser bolt screamed past her, taking part of her pulse rifle with it. She threw the ruined weapon aside and, holding on to the ladder with one hand, drew one of her neutrinos and opened fire, pegging the goblin who had fired at her in the forehead and sending him tumbling back into his comrades. She wasted no time in rushing down the ladder, and when she was at the next floor, she opened it with the emergency lever and threw herself inside.

Landing with a roll, and coming up with her neutrino aimed, Holly entered yet another level whose contents were unknown to her. Another dreary grey corridor stretched out before her, and there was no one in it but her. Cautiously, she proceeded through it, following her instinct. The hallway took her past several doors, which ended up being storage rooms. The next, however, opened up into a large, hundred-meter long room that was bathed in an ominous green light. This light came from dozens of screens, computers, and highly advanced devices, all of which were whirring away in automatic processes, working tirelessly towards their goal, whatever that was. Holly entered warily, expecting a fight, but she found none. She was alone.

"What the hell is all this?" she whispered as she walked through the laboratory. She looked at a few of the screens, and saw numerous readouts that were all related to cellular biology and virology. There were charts and logbooks, vials and incubators, and when Holly observed some of the larger pieces of equipment she concluded that she was in a state-of-the-art biotech lab, the sort that only military could afford. And surely, in the hands of a group like Laconus, it couldn't have been for a good purpose. Holly glared as she passed by screens that showed magnified images of cells, ones that were anything but natural. All of it gave her a terrible feeling, and that was made worse when she reached the middle of the vast research facility.

There she found a series of large transparent holding containers, airtight ones that could be used for quarantine, and though most of them were empty all of them had certain degrees of blood on their floors, some coagulating and others nearly fresh. There were twenty of them in a row, and the last one, when she reached it, was fogged up and nearly impossible to see through. Holly paused, putting her hand on the glass, and looked carefully. She could make out shadows within, all lying flat on the floor in irregular poses. One of them, unlike the others, was twitching randomly, as if going through the final stages of some sort of traumatic death. This made Holly step back, sickened despite the fact that she could not see what was happening inside. Something terrible was going on in there, and after a second more of observation Holly realized that the shadows within, being larger than a fairy, were human. She looked through the fogged glass again and saw that the body had stopped moving, joining the others in stillness. Death.

After such a terrible realization, Holly was inclined to think about it, but she did not get the chance. She heard the sound of the lab's door opening, and instantly crouched down behind one of the many pieces of equipment, and though she had not caught even a glimpse of those who entered, she heard their footsteps echoing through the green-tinted laboratory. There was no telling how many there were exactly, but Holly estimated that it was a group of five or six, a typical fireteam. They were likely spread out in pairs, advancing carefully through the room. _There better be more than one way out of here,_ Holly thought as she pressed herself against the cold steel of a large machine. In silence she waited, all the while hearing the footsteps getting closer.

Holly waited for a few intense moments, but then she saw a security camera nearly right above her. At that moment she realized that she was anything but hidden, and the enemies closing in knew her position. _D'arvit!_ The elf internal chided herself for the error, but no sooner had she done this when she saw the reflection of several enemies in a glass surface nearby. Her mind, calculating their position relative to the reflective surface, immediately told her to act. And she did, quite recklessly and without any time for planning.

When the enemy is encircling you, it is sometimes best to make a sudden and powerful breakthrough, and that's was Holly did. She jumped out into the open, with both of her neutrinos in hand, and began to fire like a madman. The closest team of operatives was right in front of her, and they were dropped instantly. The rest, dispersed at numerous positions, returned fire. Laser shots and neutrino bursts filled the air, and Holly hit the ground with a roll, keeping below the many pieces of cover and aiming expertly from it whenever she got an opening. In moments she had taken out another two of her attackers, but the remaining two hunkered down near the door and laid down a devastating barrage of fire. She ducked again, hearing the shots whiz past her, and glanced around quickly. There had to be another way out, and she needed to find it, fast.

While Holly was desperately searching for an escape route, the door to the laboratory opened again. This time ten fairies entered, and leading them was Captain Vepar Cailleach. Dressed in his tactical gear, and wielding his personal favorite of deadly laser rifles, he walked rather nonchalantly into the gunfight, ignoring as a neutrino shot from Holly struck one of the officers in front of him. His expression was firm, unflinching, and his eyes were slightly narrowed. He observed the unconscious fairies strewn around the room, and the burn marks on numerous pieces of fragile equipment, and frowned slightly.

"This recon upstart is really starting to piss me off…"

As he said this, Holly peered up over her cover and fired several shots. One of them went right past Vepar's left hear, and made the rest of his team spread out and take cover. He only smirked, brought his rifle to bear, and locked his cold eyes on Holly's position. "There you are," he growled, and then he pulled the trigger, timing his shot to predict his target's moves.

"You want some more, assholes?" Holly growled, aiming over her cover again. Her bravado was instantly checked by a laser bolt, which struck the neutrino in her right hand and burned all along her arm. She cried out despite herself, falling backwards and writhing in pain. Her right arm went limp, with third degree burns all along one side of it; the smell of charred flesh filled her nostrils, and the agony accompanied it in full, nearly making her vomit. "Shit, not now!" she rasped through barred teeth, her eyes wide with pain and streaming tears. "Gods dammit that hurts!" Even with all of her training, all of her experience, it was hard to cope with the sheer agony that was assailing her, but the equally as appalling danger she was in pried her away from this shock—Vepar and his officers were closing in on her, intent on finishing her off.

Holly struggled into a crouching position and tried to blind fire at her enemies, but a fusillade of accurate laser shots made it impossible. Pinned down by ten highly-trained operatives, and unable to use her good arm, there was little she could do, and that did not sit well with her. _Not yet,_ she thought angrily as she ducked below the storm of death, feeling it so close. _I am not done yet!_ She looked left and right, and by chance saw a hatch in the wall far to her right. _There!_

It was far off, but it was her only bet. She had to get to it. It was at that moment when she saw one of the unconscious fairies she had shot lying close by, and more in particular, the concussor grenades attached to his belt. Temptation took control, and Holly, despite all that was going against her, made a mad dash for it, spraying madly with her blaster as she did so. The moment she broke for it Vepar and his officers targeted her, and the only reason she did not get reduced to ashes was because she unexpectedly went low and slid the rest of the way to the body, her momentum enough to carry her upon the smooth metal floor. And when she did reach the body, she kept going, only holstering her neutrino and grabbing one of the grenades as she went. It only took a flick of its safety and a press of its button to set its timer, and as Holly tumbled behind another piece of equipment amidst a hail of death, she flung it on a high arc, right into the midst of Vepar and his subordinates. All they could do was cover their faces.

An explosion filled the room with a blast of kinetic force and a deafening noise, but Holly barely noticed, so painful was her existing wound. Instead she continued through the chaos, even as glass and all the contents of the work desks blew around her in waves. Laser shots still flew, but they were sporadic and poorly placed—most of them were desperate shots made by fairies who were presently being thrown head over heels by the kinetic blast. Only one even got close, burning the skin on Holly's shoulder, but it was hard to distinguish that pain from the rest—the terrible burn, the lacerations from flying glass, and the countless bruises. All she focused on, in this wretched storm, was the hatch in the distance, and its promise of escape. There was no time to open it, so she drew her neutrino as she ran and fired a high-powered burst, blasting its steel hinges clean off and leaving it bereft of its door. Then, with every last ounce of energy she could muster, she sprinted towards the dark opening, braving all of the danger around her.

Holly was almost free, but one of her attackers, Vepar, managed to get off one more shot. That single crimson bolt of energy shot out just as she was jumping into the opening, but luckily for her it passed her by, missing by no more than an inch. Nonetheless, the sheer brightness of its passage made her close her eyes, and so she did not see clearly as she entered the tunnel. Her head struck metal, and she fell into blackness, dazed and blinded by pain. The fall, however long it really was, seemed like an eternity spent tumbling into an otherworldly abyss. A jarring impact awakened her from her spell of semi-unconsciousness, and the pain that shot through her was appalling, making her groan and feel like throwing up. She opened her eyes and saw only darkness.

The elf had no idea where she was, how far she had fallen, or what would happen next, but she did know that she was alive, if not just barely. She had landed on a softer material, though irregular and hard in spots, and that was perhaps why she had no broken bones. It took her great effort to sit up, and again she groaned, sickened by her agony. Then she noticed the smell. It assaulted her the instant her daze subsided, and despite the pain that demanded her attention she instinctively wrinkled her nose and looked for its source. It was the smell of death, she knew it well. She moved her left hand in an attempt to rise, and felt something under her fingers, something the yielded and yet did not feel like soft earth. It was cold, wet, and it made her realize something that should have been obvious. The lab above, the bodies in the fogged-up compartment, the hatch in the wall—it made her realize what sort of place she had fallen into. This awareness came at the same time as her adjusted night vision. Her eyes, previously blinded by the brightness of Vepar's last shot, now took in a sight of unimaginable horror.

Bodies, countless bodies, were spread out before her in a tangled mass of limbs, all of them naked and in various stages of decomposition. There had to be hundreds, if not over a thousand, and that did not count the layer of old bones beneath, from bodies long since deteriorated. Holly stared at them, wide-eyed, incapable of processing such a sight, for truly she had never seen something so terrible ever before; words could not describe, and no words came to her in that moment of complete revulsion. Her arm, which was supported upon a rotting corpse, suddenly plunged, its weight enough to sink it into the bloated chest cavity of the dead human she was sitting on. Holly fell and found herself face to face with that man, whose visage was literally falling off to the efforts of maggots and rats. Despite all of her training, and all of the terrible things she had survived, Holly screamed, and with a sudden, maddened speed she pushed herself away from the horrifying sight, rising to her feet and stumbling backwards, though only to fall again when her foot got caught between a number of stiff limbs. She found herself surrounded by the dead, nearly immersed in them, and the more she struggled the more their fetid corpses seemed to fall in around her. Their hands, some no more than bone, reached out at her, and their faces, so varied in their mutilation, seemed to stare at her in unison, as if they hated her for the simple fact that she was alive. There were men, women, and even children among them, all dead, all robbed of life and cast into a pile, and as Holly desperately clawed her way out of their cold touch she felt her mind nearly snap. Her heart, beating so rapidly, seemed to reverberate in her head and shake her mind to pieces, and her whole body was overcome by the desire to flee. She was terrified, and all she could do was fight her way through the sea of horrors until she found a spot that wasn't covered by the dead. After several minutes of maddening effort, she collapsed on a slab of rock, where only a few old skeletons were scattered in poses of annihilation. She fell on her back, breathing heavily to the point of not being able to breathe at all, and stared at the darkness above, her hazel eyes wide and her mouth open in a perpetual expression of terror. She was shaking, as if stricken by a cold, and her mind trembled in such a perilous way as well, like a leaf in the wind. No clear thoughts came to her, only horror, only dread.

 _Get a hold of yourself!_ another part of her demanded, and slowly but surely she collected herself, clawing her way back from the brink of madness. She sat up again, this time on solid stone, and stared across the expanse of dead in wondering awe. Hundreds, thousands, of corpses were before her, and those closest to her made her feel that inconsolable terror once again. She was suddenly overcome by the need to vomit, and she did, quite violently. The sound of her coughs and gags echoed in the stale air, and kept going even when she had stopped. Once emptied of her stomach's contents, the elf collapsed, overcome by the traumatic experience. This was something she would take to her grave, if she was never granted the mercy of forgetting.

 _This is what he wants…_ she thought, feeling the death around her, sensing the very torment of those who had died. This was a precursor to Belenos' magnum opus, his extermination of the human race, and it surely told her what he planned on using. The lab above, and these bodies, all test subjects for his creations, indicated that Laconus was developing a biological weapon of the likes the world had never seen. It was wretched to even consider doing such a thing, and yet Holly knew that Belenos was intent on doing so with pride, even glee, all in the name of the People and their rightful inheritance. Holly had always wanted to live on the surface, to have what the People once called their own, but not at such a price—not at the price of lives, or the price of her own soul. She had always wanted to walk the fields, the forests, the meadows, and glide in the air without fear of being seen, to be truly free on the wonderful planet that she had sworn to protect.

"But not like this…" she whispered as she stared into the dark sockets of a small human skull. "Not like this…"

Her view had always been that the People were better than the humans, less inclined to do evil things. And yet now, before her, she saw so many of those supposedly lesser people, murdered by one of her own for no justifiable reason. Most of them had likely never been bad, never the corrupt sort that the People generalized, but rather honest people who just wanted to live in peace. How opposite it all seemed, the reversed roles, the shattered perceptions. In the end there was no difference, no superiority. Evil found purchase in the hearts of fairies just as easily as it did in the hearts of men. And Belenos, the hand that had brought so much death, was chief among the fallen fairies whose very souls were property of the devil.

 _This has to stop,_ Holly thought angrily as she sat up, surveying the carnage. _No one else. I will not let him kill anyone else!_ There was a sudden shift in her demeanor, a darkening of her mood. Her trembling hand steadied as it clenched into a fist, and her visage contorted with anger. Disgust, hatred, and fury washed through her, blackening her thoughts and making her weaknesses irrelevant. _I will stop that bastard, if it's the last thing I do._ This was a promise from the bottom of her heart, and she made it to all those before her, whose deaths begged for justice. It didn't matter that they were human; Holly would fight for them all the same, because they could no longer fight for themselves.

With this powerful resolve burning within her, Captain Holly Short stood up tall, rising amidst those who would not ever rise again. Her eyes were no longer wide, nor her body feeble. Pain tormented her, and her right arm was useless, but she was not finished, not even close. Something about all of this had given her a new, unexplainable strength, and she did not question it. She took hold of it, and put her mind forward to what had to be done. She shelved her burning anger, her desire for retribution, and focused on the most pressing issue of survival.

Holly glanced around carefully, assessing the gloomy expanse. It was a cavern, but it was not cut off from the surface. A faint breeze was in the air, and it was cool and fresh amidst the warm and rancid atmosphere, meaning that there had to be an opening somewhere. Holly did her best to determine the direction, and then set out, over the sea of corpses. It was difficult, and traumatic, having to step over—and in many cases on—the dead, and the complete silence of the cavern made it even worse, as every sound of cracking bone or bursting flesh seemed to fill the air. When she finally reached the end of it, she was thoroughly unhinged, but not enough to stop her. She trudged onward, up the steady incline of the rocky ground, to where the cool breeze was coming from. Dampness clung to her, as if trying to pull her back into the depths, and the very air seemed tinged by an ominous presence. Holly doubled her efforts, and they were rewarded by a soft glow far ahead, a mere pinprick of light.

Towards the light she climbed, out from the darkness and the decay. It was as literal as it was metaphorical, as not only was she escaping from a world of the dead and entering into that of the living, she was also leaving behind her weakness, her fear, and her hesitation, striving onward towards what her responsibilities demanded.

The source of the light was a small opening in the cave wall, only a meter wide and five feet high, and when Holly reached it she could hear the sound of rainfall from beyond. The tropical evening had become a dreary one, with grey clouds and soaking rain, but as she stepped out into its embrace Holly did not feel dreary at all; the cool water covered her, washing off the sweat and the blood, and the clean air filled her lungs, renewing her body and spirit. As quickly as it took her to breathe in and out, she put aside this pleasure and looked ahead, her face now a mask of anger and determination. She had emerged into a grassy clearing at the base of a cliff, and before her loomed the tangled green of the forest. She never thought she'd be so happy to see that convoluted jungle again. Now she had to decide what to do.

No sooner had this thinking begun in her mind when he ears picked up the sound of something in the woods beyond. Without hesitation she rushed to the left of the tunnel opening, to where a number of large rocks were situated, and took up a defensive position. At the same time, a trio of shadows detached from the gloomy forest, emerging into the rainy clearing. Holly could not see who it was, but she could hear their voices as they approached.

"…Vepar says she was significantly wounded before she escaped, and the fall is quite nasty so I hear. Chances are that she's dead, but we don't take chances. Vepar wants a body, nothing less."

There was a pause, and then another voice. "And what if she's alive?"

"Then we'll give him one," the first one stated coldly.

 _Great._ Holly frowned as she pressed herself against the rock that was her refuge. At least three enemies were searching there for her, and she only had one working arm and a neutrino. But, upon considering this, she actually grinned. She could work with that. Keeping her motions slow and efficient, she drew her blaster and set it to its highest stun setting, and then made a furtive glance around the rock. She caught sight of three fairies, all of them elves, walking perpendicular to her as they approached the cavern entrance.

"She couldn't have gotten far," one of the elves said with confidence, a slight grin forming on his face. "Even if she survived, that cavern is a hellhole. Doubt she made it out at all."

"Don't make assumptions," the lead elf, a sergeant, growled. "One day you'll make a wrong one, and it will be too late."

 _It's already too late,_ Holly thought. Though she could have just let them pass her by, she had another objective to fulfill first, and they could help her with that.

"The Captain is not to be trifled with," the sergeant continued, glaring venomously as he spoke. "She's recon, one of Root's, and though some of you were not around when Laconus was originally formed, you can still appreciate the reputation that elf was made for himself and his operatives."

It was interesting that they kept referring to her as _The Captain._ It was almost as if they had a certain level of respect for her, as otherwise why would they call her by her rank and add a certain degree of infamy to its utterance? Holly smiled a little, but her darkened heart was not affected. She still aimed at the three fairies with a spiteful glare, her memories of the cave and its tragic contents giving rise to her anger—unlike before, she now held a personal vendetta against every single one of Laconus' members. They were all going to pay.

Without any preamble or generic remarks, Holly aimed and fired upon the three fairies, taking them by surprise while they were in the middle of the clearing. Two went down immediately, and the last one, the sergeant, made a valiant attempt at returning fire, though only to be struck ten times in the chest. Holly thought that it was over, but there was a sound behind her, the sound of a charged weapon. She spun about to see yet another elf only ten yards away. They had both stumbled upon one another, and their surprise was replaced by action at roughly the same time. Holly brought her neutrino to bear, and the other his laser rifle, and they both fired. It was by a ridiculous stroke of luck that they shot each other's weapons out of each other's hands. Holly didn't even pause. With a courageous scream she charged at the elf, who was desperately reaching for his sidearm. Her speed was amplified her adrenaline and fury, and when she reached the elf she gave him the most memorable punch to the face he would ever receive. Both of them went to the ground in a heap, struggling and growling like animals. Holly had her left arm going constantly, slugging the elf in the face over and over. He managed to draw his sidearm, but Holly grabbed his shooting arm and pushed it aside, making his shots careen into the cliff wall. After struggling a little more, Holly slammed the elf's hand over and over against the rocky ground, breaking his wrist and making him drop his weapon. Then, with a terrible fury, she grabbed his combat knife—which he had failed to reach for in time—and pressed it against his throat.

"Surrender!" she rasped, breathing heavily.

The elf was glaring at her with absolute fury, but there was also terror in his eyes, and the feeling of his own knife peeling his skin made him break. He ceased struggling and spoke pathetically.

"Okay, okay! Please, don't kill me!"

Holly pressed the knife closer, and knelt closer as well. "What's your name and rank?"

"Finley Zeph, private…"

Holly furrowed her brow, coming to a very favorable realization. Of all the fairies she had detained on the island, she had this one. It was obvious that he was not a former LEP officer, more likely one of their prison recruits, and despite his evident lack of morality he was very easily intimidated by her. His lack of professionalism, and his quickness to surrender, made it evident that he was not one of Belenos' elite, and certainly not a fairy of superb character. She really couldn't believe her luck, getting such a malleable target; it made what she had in mind a whole lot easier. Keeping the knife on the verge of cutting his carotid artery, Holly put on her most vicious expression and spoke with an unrealistic amount of malice.

"If you want to survive, do as I say."

Finley only nodded, not wanting to walk with a knife so close to his throat.

"Take off your gear, all of it."

This time the elf stuttered a feeble "What?!" and hesitated to do anything. Holly helped him make his decision by pressing the blade a little closer, drawing blood. His compliance was good after that. While the elf removed all of his tactical gear, Holly leaned against one of the rocks, now with the elf's neutrino sidearm in her hand. When he was finished, and left standing in the cold rain with nothing but his jumpsuit on, she spoke coldly.

"Good work, private. Now you will live. However…" she paused for effect. "If you do one more thing for me, I will let you go free, no questions asked."

"S-sure."

"Heal me, use every drop of magic you have left."

The elf glared at her, utterly flabbergasted. "Why in Frond's name should I do that?"

Holly casually increased the power setting on her neutrino, and aimed it low towards the elf's groin. The elf noticed the aim, eyes wide, and Holly, using a very serious tone, answered his question.

"Or I will give your magic a reason to start flowing."

Again, Finley's resistance shattered. In seconds he had his hands on Holly, using his magic to heal her terrible wounds. She kept her neutrino pressed against his forehead as he did this, and only when he had spent every possible drop of his magic did she let him step back. When he did, he stumbled over, weakened and body and spirit, humiliated and terrified.

Holly tested her right arm, her shoulder, and cracked her neck. Everything was back to normal, all of the agony gone, and this put her in a very good mood. She looked down at the prostrate elf and smiled. "Thank you."

The elf was shivering in the cold, and he looked up at her fearfully. "Can I go free now?"

"Sure," Holly said, gesturing towards the forest. "I'll give you until the count of ten to get out of my sight." She paused, and then spoke menacingly. "Ten…"

Finley jumped to his feet and started to run for his very life, possessed by his fear and determined to escape. Holly watched him go across the small clearing, and when he was near the far side of it she aimed with her blaster, slowly and without any apparent concern. She was only on _six_ , but she fired anyway, striking the elf between the shoulder blades and making him face plant in the mud. When all was still, and only Holly remained standing, she lowered her weapon. "Sorry…" she said heartlessly, turning around to look at the pile of gear. "I lied…"

It took Holly only a few minutes to don the tactical gear, and after ensuring that it fit her comfortably, she walked over to the other unconscious fairies and took one of their helmets. She put it on, and then took as many weapons from them as she could. Then, using her rejuvenated body to its fullest ability, she ran off into the concealing protection of the jungle. However, she had no intention of running away. No, she was going to do the opposite. There was no way that she could contact Haven in her current position, but there was certain to be a method of exposing the island, and at the same time she was so filled with fury that she could not be controlled. Her desire was to bring them all down, to be their greatest nightmare, and she would not stop until that was a reality. Her experience in the tunnel had changed her, hardened her, and given her a reason to risk her own life once again. The moment she had seen all those murdered people was the moment that her very heart and soul had declared total war on her enemies. Nothing short of victory or defeat would end that vicious pursuit.


	14. Solitary Offensive

**Island of Taillte**

Thunder rolled its ominous drums in the fading night sky, shaking the earth and heavens with its godlike power. The flashes of its released energy rippled across this darkened firmament in sporadic waves, casting light here and there to illuminate roiling clouds and, far below, the looming hills of the lost island that stood alone upon the raging waters of the Pacific. Rain poured down in sheets, soaking the already damp forests with withering fusillades of droplets; the earth became muddy, slick, and the rivers from the mountains grew into rapids. In all of this the duality of tropical lands was shown, for where there was so much paradise there was also the equal potential for chaos; the flipside to the peaceful worlds tucked away in the blue expanse was the tempestuous character of that very same realm, the other face of the sea and its hidden gems.

At the base of one the mountains, where a cave opened up into a grassy clearing, there were the sounds of activity and the motion of many shadows. Four Laconus ships sat dormant in the center, their hatches open and their engines still warm enough to make the raindrops evaporate on contact. A number of armed fairies stood in the pouring rain, wary as they secured the area. Others saw to the bodies of their comrades, which were strewn about the grassy patch in the odd positions that their unconsciousness had left them in. Amidst all of this stood Captain Cailleach, his helmet off and his rifle slung over his back; he didn't mind the rain, if anything it cooled the burning fury within him. He eyed the unconscious fairies around him and frowned, utterly perturbed by the apparent fact that a mortally wounded elf had somehow climbed out of the cavern, ambushed his officers, and gotten away without leaving a trace. It was enough to make him growl his orders with overt anger, breaking his trademark stoicism.

"Gather the wounded and take them back to base, and make sure they are awoken as soon as possible so that they can be debriefed. The Major wants an explanation for this failure."

Vepar glared after saying this, feeling a slight amount of apprehension—far more than was normal for him under trying circumstances. He hated failing his commander, forsaking his responsibility, almost as much as he hated the prospect of losing the struggle against the humans. The scarred elf glared off into the darkness as water streamed down his head and face, and as he did so his right finger twitched; he really wanted to shoot something at the moment, preferably that vexatious elf. That Holly Short had managed to elude him was infuriating, scraping at his pride and his reputation, and it showed so clearly in his stature as he walked across the clearing, barking orders through barred teeth.

"Teams one, three, and seven, get to your ships and take up positions in sectors eight, twelve, and thirty respectively. An additional force will back you up once the Major has approved their deployment. Move out!" As three dozen of his officers rushed to their ships and took off with heavy blasts of hot air, Captain Cailleach looked to his own team, who waited in the gloom at the edge of the clearing like phantoms. His eyes, as he made contact with his colleagues, showed a predatory glint. "We have her on the run, comrades. Her objective is to make contact with Haven, so she would not stick around here, not as injured as she is now. If anything she's making her way to the shoreline, in hopes of getting out of the range of our refraction barrier." He unslung his rifle, powering it up without looking at it and holding it readily in his hands. "She's on her last legs, my brothers. She is prey. Now let us hunt her down."

The other members of Vepar's squad, _Drakon_ , all readied their weapons and nodded silently. None of them spoke, but their expressions, hidden behind the dark visors of their helmets, would have showed the same darkness that Vepar displayed in his countenance. Together they proceeded into the jungle, half with pairs of wings to fly overhead while the others navigated through the dense brush. Soon they were gone, leaving only one ship and the medics in the clearing.

"We've got Private Zeph over here," one of the medics, a pixie, said gruffly. He knelt over the unconscious elf, and after checking his vitals with his scanner he gave him a preemptive shot of healing magic. "That should do for a while," he muttered, absentmindedly motioning to his colleague nearby.

"How's he holding up?" the combat medic, a goblin, asked as he brought over a hover stretcher.

"Stunned, like all the others," the pixie stated. "His vitals are all solid. It would seem that our enemy, the captain, is not capable of killing anything. She only uses the lower settings on her weapons."

"Typical LEP," the goblin medic said flatly as he helped his partner move the body onto the stretcher. "Still, it's an advantage for us. She's only making it harder for herself by not whittling down our numbers." He grinned, his sharp teeth glinting in the lightning. "As the humans say, conscience makes cowards of us all…"

"True," the pixie mused, before refocusing on Private Finley Zeph. "Let's get this helmet off of him…" The medic put his hands on the helmet and tried to remove it, but after tugging for several seconds he stopped, furrowing his brow and speaking angrily. "D'arvit. It's not coming off. Bloody thing's stuck!"

The goblin medic looked closely, and then whistled. "Took a laser shot right past the neck, maybe from a friendly in the heat of the moment. Melted the locking clamps right in place harder than a dwarf's spittle. Nothing short of laser cutters will get this thing off him." He shrugged, resignation in his expression. "He'll have to wait until he gets to the infirmary."

"Load him up with the others then," the pixie said, glancing around the clearing as he did so. "I don't like the looks of this place. Never did. I can smell the death from here."

The medics wasted no time in moving the wounded fairies across the clearing and into the waiting transport. A few minutes later the ship lifted off, blasting the clearing with hot exhaust and casting mud and water into the tempestuous air. Into the night the ship flew, towards the mountain that loomed over it; closer to the heart of Laconus.

The Zephyr-class vessel reached its destination only a moment later, slowing down as it approached a sheer cliff face on the northern side of the mountain. Though even by the lightning's flashes nothing appeared to be there, it all changed in an instant. The cliff shimmered, and metal replaced rock; a massive door appeared, and it opening noiselessly, allowing for the lone vessel to enter the hangar bay beyond. Many security measures were passed in the process—dozens of automated guns, numerous armed patrols, refractive shields, and a dozen others—but the ship was unchallenged, assured in its security. No one hostile was on board, and even if there was, they wouldn't have been able to make it far.

After landing in the busy hangar, the crew of the shuttle unloaded the unconscious fairies and transferred them to a waiting group of officers, who then took them into the pearlescent corridors beyond. A short elevator ride later, and they were in the core of the facility, where all of the most essential areas were safeguarded, including the medical wing. The four stunned officers were quickly taken into the emergency area, and Private Zeph was among them, still locked away in his tinted helmet and heavy combat armor, which concealed all of his features and gave him a stature exactly the same as his colleagues. A female could have worn that attire and no one would have been able to tell the difference.

It was ten minutes later that the motionless elf lay on a sterile table in a small treatment room, still in his gear and still out cold. There were no sounds save the faint report of the ventilation overhead; it was a sealed room, quarantine capable and outright cut off from everything. The walls were a featureless white as well, to accompany this isolation, and there was nothing in the small room but the medical essentials. For a few minutes he lay there, and then the door opened noiselessly, ushering in a typically dressed medical officer. The doctor, a female elf with long black hair and an unnaturally pale complexion, checked her data pad and regarded the armor-clad body, her golden-brown eyes ever filled with calculation. Her name was Aoife Vale. Having been one of Laconus' original members, she was among Belenos' elite, experienced and hardened by the many years of struggle. She was the Chief Medical Officer of Laconus, among her many other talents.

Aoife approached her patient as she always did, though with a lot less urgency than was customary. She already knew that the private was perfectly healthy, just stunned and stuck in his melted helmet—the helmet itself was functional and presented no risk of suffocation. His life was not in danger, and though such a situation did not usually call for an expert like herself, she had little else to do—the fact that the fugitive, Holly Short, refused to harm anyone, made the doctor's work quite repetitive and boring. Not that she disliked it of course. There was nothing Aoife hated more than losing comrades. It was her duty as a doctor to save lives—well, only those that mattered. LEP and humans were not on that priority list. Neither elicited a sense of compassion from her. They were enemies, and those who opposed Laconus' mission deserved to die. This sort of dark thought was contradictory to her original oath as a doctor, and in fact contradictory to the very doctrine of the People, but she did not care. Though many years ago she had lost her husband to the humans, there was no reasonable excuse for her change in morals, an assertion that she actually agreed with. Like any sort of intelligent corrupt being, she saw the wretched truth about herself and did not shudder. Killing was not new to her, as a hundred years ago she too had spilled the blood of her former LEP compatriots; the tri-barreled laser blaster holstered on her belt had been part of that. Like Belenos himself, she had long since accepted what was necessary for their cause, what one had to become.

 _Now let us get the bucket off of this soldier's head,_ the cold elf thought as she loomed over her patient. She reached over to the small table beside the bed and retrieved a laser scalpel, which she activated just seconds before bringing it to the patient's neck. Bending close and focusing entirely on her work, Aoife carefully sliced through the melted alloy that kept the helmet shut, all the while humming an old tune and displaying a bored expression. She could have dissected a live patient—without anesthesia—with the same amount of nonchalance.

Aoife finished the work in a few seconds. After putting the laser scalpel back on the table, she put both of her hands on the helmet and slowly pulled it off, minding her patient's comfort. Still she wore that bored expression, though she spoke with a little bit of enthusiasm.

"There we go, not quite as good as new, but good enough..."

She pulled the helmet off, and it was at that moment that she felt something warm press against her stomach. Her golden eyes widened, and her bored expression contorted into one of surprise, because at that very same moment she realized that her patient was not Private Zeph, or anyone in Laconus for that matter. A growling voice punctuated this discovery.

"Don't do anything stupid, doc. Otherwise they'll be cleaning you up with a broom."

Aoife felt her own blaster being pressed against her, and stared into the hazel eyes of her enemy. Holly Short stared back, her eyes narrowed and her expression deadly. For the doctor it was a terrible moment, for not only did she know that all of them had been fooled, but also that the LEP elf, regardless of her dislike for killing, would not take any chances in a life and death situation. The thing was, Aoife's laser blaster was lethal and only lethal, an old-school killing machine.

"Keep quiet, and don't move," Holly growled, quieter this time and yet with more force. She sat up slowly, keeping the doctor at gunpoint, and once she was standing at eye level with her she motioned with the pistol. "On your knees."

Aoife was clearly not one to give up so easily, because instead of following Holly's demands she burst into action, swiftly reaching out in an attempt to disarm her. It would have worked on most people, but Holly was far faster than most. With blinding speed and a terrifying snarl she avoided Aoife's attack and swung the grip of her pistol into the side of her head, effectively cracking her skull and giving her a cerebral hemorrhage. The medical officer dropped like a sack of potatoes, and Holly loomed over her, blaster aimed.

"Stay down, bitch. I don't want your life."

Magic whirled around the wounded elf's head, working furiously to heal the potentially fatal hemorrhage. Holly watched carefully, but she was not concerned. She was no fool; she knew that the injury could be dealt with by magic without any long-term disabilities. To be honest, she regretted having to go so far in order to silence the doctor, but as long as she did not permanently harm someone when there was no need, her actions were acceptable.

After checking Aoife's pulse and searching her for weapons, Holly stood tall and looked towards the door. Now she assessed her situation. Her plan, thus far, was a complete success. She was in the heart of Laconus' base, while the unfortunate private, Finley, was hogtied and hidden inside a rotting tree somewhere in the jungle. Back then, which was only a half-hour ago, she had donned all of his gear and purposely shot a lethal neutrino charge close enough to her neck to seal her helmet on. Then she had placed herself on the ground beside the other stunned fairies and waited. It had been an insane idea to pose as a wounded enemy in hopes of being taken into the facility, but that was exactly why she had chosen it. No other means would have given her access to the facility, which was a veritable fortress in its currently locked-down state. And, remaining in line with her methods, it was a strategy so insane that even Belenos would not suspect it. But regardless of its legitimacy, it had been a terribly nerve-racking experience, for throughout the entirety of it Holly had been defenseless. Had her enemies somehow managed to remove her helmet then, she would have been killed on the spot, executed without remorse. She had taken an extreme risk, placing her very life on a knife's edge, and the gamble had paid off despite all of the odds that rose against her.

It was by this feat that she found herself in the medical bay, alone in a conveniently private room. There were no cameras in the area either—it would seem that Laconus, at the very least, respected the privacy of medical exams. This allowed for her to almost casually stuff Aoife's body underneath the white sheets of the exam table and double check all of her gear. As these acts were done, she thought about the battle at hand. Her enemies were out there for the time being, searching for her in vain, chasing shadows of their own contrivance. They thought her on the run, broken, desperate, when in truth it was the opposite. Holly, like any cornered animal, was going straight for their throats.

The door loomed before her with all of its promised dangers. Once she left that room, she was in the cauldron until either she won or lost. She knew that there would be no more second chances. Steeling herself for what was to come, Holly donned her helmet once again, hiding herself behind her clever façade. Then, with a confident stride and a soldier's demeanor, she opened the sealed door and stepped out into a realm of countless dangers.

A large medical bay stretched out before her, filled with enough technology to make Haven's central hospital look like a small clinic; Holly did not gawk at any of it, though internally she wondered how the hell Laconus acquired all of its modern tech. No more than a dozen personnel were present in this room, and they paid the armored elf—a generic private as far as they were concerned—no attention as she strode confidently towards the exit. Clearly they thought their superior, Doctor Vale, was still inside the treatment room writing up the patient release form. They did not expect that an enemy was walking in their midst, or that their leader had nearly been killed by the grip of her own pistol.

With her stolen identity on her side, Holly left the room and emerged into the featureless corridors of the facility, hanging a right immediately. When she had been carried through these corridors on the stretcher, she had watched carefully from behind the opaque visor of her helmet; she had taken note of all of the key areas she would have to go, and now that she was free to move about, she began her plan of action as swiftly as she could.

Most would balk at the notion of walking through the halls of such a menacing place, but Holly did so without overt discomfort. She passed armed officers and other personnel regularly, and she never turned a head; she was Private Zeph, after all, so there was no reason for her to appear uneasy, or for others to suspect her. This was aided by the fact that Laconus' procedures mirrored the LEP's almost exactly. Due to this, Holly didn't need to guess a whole lot; she merely needed to throw on the same professional persona she wore in the presence of Haven's top brass. She saluted those who outranked her, and nodded cordially to those who were her equals, all with a fake friendliness. It was surreal, this experience, for she was walking by those who would kill her without hesitation and receiving their neutral acknowledgement. This was what it felt like to be a fox in wolf's clothing.

Her current objective was to reach the armory. She knew that it would be standard procedure, in a high-alert situation, for Private Zeph to replace his damaged gear and rearm before joining the security teams again, and that expectation coincided perfectly with her first order of business. She also knew that she would be expected at a debriefing before all of this, but none of the officers she encountered knew of what had happened, and by the time anyone did her goals would literally be in her hands. For what she needed to do, she first needed to be armed to the teeth. Her only weapon at present was her stolen blaster, which she had hidden inside one of her vest's pouches—and for good reason. It was an uncommon model, and its grips were custom made; someone was bound to notice a lowly private walking around with the Chief Medical Officer's personal sidearm. She could feel its presence, and took a slight comfort in it being close at hand. If anything went wrong before she reached the armory, at least she had a weapon, but she needed weaponry that would not stand out.

It took Holly five minutes to reach her destination, where she was met by a duo of armed sentries at the entrance. Gaining admittance to the armory was surprisingly simple. Firstly, she had all of Private Zeph's personal effects—his ID card, clearance codes, name badge, and even his outdated Atlantis citizenship card, which he had oddly kept despite it being useless to him. With these Holly had solid clearance, and it was yet another fortunate outcome that the elf she posed as had a boyish voice, one that she could imitate well enough to fool the guards. In only a minute she was inside the armory, one of the last places that Belenos would want her to be.

 _Suck it, Belenos,_ she thought as she strode past the guards and beheld the treasures that soldiers like her loved. There was a wicked grin on her face the whole time, hidden behind her mask, and through her barred teeth she chuckled lightly. Her eyes were on the weapons racks that stretched out before her, hence that wolfish smile. The racks were half empty, and there was no one but her inside the large room, leaving it silent after the door closed behind her. Most of Laconus' soldiers had already checked out their weapons and were either deployed in the field or waiting in reserve. The whole facility was undermanned due to her deception—a perfect time to make a move.

Trying not to appear conspicuous to the cameras above, Holly walked to the nearest full rack of pulse rifles and selected one. As she did so, she could not help but realize that Laconus' armory, despite being half empty, had more weapons in it than ten police plazas stacked on top of each other. _Where do they get all of this?_ she thought as she eyed the other racks and shelves. There were rifles of all sorts, rocket launchers, plasma cannons, grenades, and such a wide assortment of pistols that she almost failed to choose one. In the end she took two compact neutrinos, placing one in a cross-draw holster on her vest and the other on her hip. She fastened a bandoleer of assorted grenades across her chest, and stuffed a number of other devices in her vest's pouches, including three high-yield detonation charges. To top things off, she selected two nice combat knifes, one for her vest and the other for her right boot. When she finished affixing her boot knife, the elf stood up tall and felt the weight of her gear fight against her efforts. _Thank the gods for recon's endurance training,_ she thought, remembering when she had been tasked with lugging a heavy pack for miles and miles in heavy snow. As a result of her training, though her gear added many pounds to her stature, she barely noticed any discomfort; it was actually lighter than her trials in recon's simulations.

Holly checked her holo-watch—another item stolen from Zeph—and nodded approvingly. She had everything timed, and so far she was two minutes ahead of schedule. She had everything she needed, though she did not replace her helmet, and that was the one thing that was being expected of her for certain. This meant that her time was limited at best. Turning her back on the other temptations of the armory, she left with understandable haste. When she passed by the sentries and started down the corridor, she heard one of them speak behind her with evident amusement.

"D'arvit Private, what in Frond's name is all that for?"

Holly stopped dead in her tracks. She turned slowly and looked the grinning dwarf in the eye, and spoke with complete honesty.

"Payback."

Then she turned around again, and started towards her next objective. The two sentries watched her go, thinking that she meant payback against their mutual enemy, Captain Short. They had no idea that they were the ones to be on the receiving end of that masked elf's fury.

Holly was not exactly sure where she was going, but she knew what she wanted to find. Acting on a hunch and the glimpses she had caught on her way in, she walked the empty corridors of the facility, her eyes constantly searching and her hands always a blink away from drawing a weapon. She found her next target in a more secure subsection of the core level, where the floor was marked by color-coded lines. Each line led to something of importance, and Holly, despite being faced with a dilemma, chose without much hesitation. Truthfully, she just went for the door that had the most guards. There were six heavily armed fairies on duty at the door she chose, and as she approached them she read the gnomish letters above the large metal portal.

 _RG – 417…_

The guards were chatting among themselves when she appeared, and they stopped upon noticing her approach; everyone became silent and still in the presence of the lone officer. The officer in charge, a lieutenant, took a few steps towards her, his rifle slung over his back but his right hand instinctively close to his holstered pistol. There was a little suspicion in his voice as he called out to her.

"This is a restricted area, state your identity."

"Private Finley Zeph," Holly replied as she came closer, "ID number zero-eight-nine-four."

The Lieutenant glanced at his datapad, which no doubt had Laconus' deployment data on it. His brow was furrowed. "You're not deployed on duty here, Private. You're supposed to be linking up with security on sub-level ten and proceeding to your debriefing with the Major."

Holly was now only ten feet away from the sentries, and there she stopped, her hands hanging loose at her sides and her head cocked just a little. "My apologies sir, I'm still recovering from being zapped by that LEP dog. All that neutrino energy messes with my head..."

"It sure does," the Lieutenant agreed, though he was eyeing her warily at this point.

A sudden noise, loud and repetitive, split the air and echoed through the corridor, making all of them jump out of surprise—all but Holly. She remained still, having expected the alarm and calculated the time-frame in which it was most likely to occur. Instead of looking surprised, she merely rolled her shoulders and muttered under her breath. "I guess they found the doc…"

The Lieutenant heard this and looked at her with an expression that said it all, but it was far too late. Before they could do anything about her she drew her neutrino and shot all of them in rapid succession, opting to just spray the hell out of them with neutrino shots until none remained standing. In but three seconds all of them were unconscious, and as the last one of them toppled over Holly knelt down beside the lieutenant, who lay with his pistol drawn but unfired. "Don't mind if I do," she said through a dangerous smile. She quickly rummaged through his pockets and found his ID card, which she promptly used to open the locked door. The metal barrier opened, and after glancing over her shoulder, she entered with all due haste. The sound of the alarm, and the promise of hostile reinforcements, urged her onward and gave rise to a fighting mood; her body and mind were blazing with a warrior's readiness.

The circular chamber before her was a treasure trove of high technology, containing dozens of machines and a large pillar in the middle. This looming structure was pulsating with energy and had dozens of cables and wires attached to it; energy flowed through it in colossal amounts, and its ultimate purpose was something that Holly knew very well. This was the generator for the island's refractive shield barrier and formidable distortion fields, the place that had enabled Belenos and his loyalists to remain hidden for decades. Holly took it all in with her hazel eyes, and spoke with a dark tone.

"Well, this room looks important…"

No time was wasted. She holstered her neutrino and unslung her pulse rifle. After putting it to its highest setting, she blasted the maintenance hatch off of the generator and melted part of is circuitry. Then, with an almost casual gait, she walked up to the smoldering opening and tossed one of her explosive charges inside, its timer set to thirty seconds. _That should do it..._

Holly spun around on her heel and began to leave, but not without dropping a handful of primed HE grenades as she went, one every few feet. She left the room with seconds to spare, closing the blast door behind her and stepping over the bodies of her enemies, and sprinted down the hallway as fast as she could. The explosion that followed, however contained and negated by the generator room's heavy doors, was so loud that it shook her to the core. The lighting overhead flickered as this chaos ensued, and more sirens and flashing red lights rose to meet it, plunging the facility into a state of complete madness. Holly intended to make the most of this insanity; destruction was her art of choice, and she practiced it in full, wreaking havoc and painting the world around her with the vivid brushstrokes of war.

 **Moments Ago, Command Center, Laconus Headquarters**

Major Belenos Æthelryth stood in the middle of the facility's command and control center, surrounded by screens and computers and the sounds organized chaos. His officers were working tirelessly to coordinate search efforts and run detailed scans on the island's wilderness, and while their work went on endlessly Belenos watched the main screen with outward indifference, his cold eyes showing nothing of what was beneath. He was standing with his arms crossed and a fungus cigar trapped between his teeth, making his imposing figure all the more ominous by a slight haze of acrid smoke. The screen before him was split ten ways to fit all of the detailed reports and scan images that the command center was receiving; over a hundred of his soldiers, supported by a dozen gunships, were out on a simple search and destroy mission, and each team reported in every few minutes. So much effort was being made, and so many precautions were being taken, and all of it was because of a single tenacious elf, Holly Short. No one in the history of the LEP had caused so much trouble singlehandedly, at least that's how Belenos saw it. Coral's daughter was a proper pain the ass, and frankly the most unpredictable foe he had ever faced. Indeed, she was formidable, though she was nonetheless certain to fail and perish. What made it truly remarkable was that she kept going in spite of such hopeless odds. _She never knows when to give up…no, she chooses not to…_ Belenos thought as he exhaled a thick cloud of smoke. _Admirable…Tragically admirable…_

"Umm, sir?" a voice called.

His thoughts now interrupted, Belenos turned to look at the speaker, an intelligence officer, who was looking up from behind his workstation. "What is it?"

The officer, a pixie, looked very nervous as he replied. "I just received a report from Captain Cailleach and his team. They claim to have come across one of the initial response team's officers, Private Zeph. They found him tied up and hidden inside a hollowed-out tree, stripped down to his jumpsuit. All of his gear is still unaccounted for."

"Private Zeph was admitted to the medical wing twenty minutes ago..." another officer said anxiously. "Sir, I think this means…"

"I know what it means!" Belenos growled, his usual composure broken by a sudden rush of anger. The realization had struck him like a rock—he had been fooled! Biting his cigar in half and spitting out the other end, he glared at the main screen and spoke firmly. "Track Zeph's helmet transponder, and bring us to readiness level zero. The enemy has breached the facility."

No one said another word. The emergency level was raised, with it coming the blaring of the alarm and the flashing of crimson alert lights. In this chaos everyone got down to the business of tracking down their cunning foe. The work was done quickly and efficiently, and in seconds the main screen was focusing entirely on a grid map of the facility's core levels. Belenos regarded it and came to a very bad conclusion. One of his officers did so aloud.

"By the gods, she's in the generator room!"

An appalling explosion suddenly went off in the distance, muffled and yet ridiculously close at hand. It shook the very floor Belenos stood on, and forced him to put one hand on a desk in order to stabilize himself. Some of the other officers at work in the room stumbled and fell, taken completely by surprise. The lights flickered for a few seconds, casting them into temporary darkness, and when they came back on Belenos stood up fully and yelled out over the din. "Damage report!"

His chief operations officer was seated in front of him, and after putting his head down during the explosion to looked back up and typed furiously on his system. "Sir, the primary refractor shield generator was hit by several explosions. It's completely down!" He paused as more data scrolled down the screen. "Secondary systems are online…shield integrity is being maintained…"

"How long was the shield down?" Belenos asked, looming over the pixie's shoulder.

"Two one-thousandths of a second," the officer replied immediately. "Even our technology would not be able to isolate such a transient signal in time."

Belenos nodded slowly, his eyes narrowed and his face contorted by a rare show of anxiety. His countenance slowly smoothed over into its usual coldness, and as this veil came over him once again he spoke slowly, almost in a whisper. "That will have to suffice. But even if they caught it, they will be too late. Our mission is almost complete." Straightening himself and looking upon the main screen, the Major smoothly refocused his attention on the most pressing crisis. "As for our vexatious guest, I feel that her welcome here has long since expired. Where is she presently?"

A number of surveillance feeds appeared on the screen, each showing an angle of where the enemy was. Belenos saw her then, dressed in stolen gear and laden with stolen weapons; an angel of destruction that should not have been possible. She was moving through the central levels, leaving a trail of unconscious fairies in her wake. She seemed unstoppable—her actions were risky if not insane, and yet she lived—but Belenos was not intimidated by her. If anything he felt anticipation. He knew what her game plan was now, and it was simple: survive, and wreak havoc until Commander Root arrived with the taskforce. Clearly she thought that destroying the primary shield generator would be enough to alert Haven, and perhaps that was, but it was a complex situation in which the opposite was just as likely. Major Belenos did not like to think about those odds, because he found them irrelevant. He had always known that the final stretch of his mission would prove to be the hardest, that his own brothers and sisters would try to stop him, and so he was prepared to ride out this last charge by the very seat of his pants. He would have his victory, no matter what.

While caught in this thought, Belenos continued to watch Holly do the impossible. All of his officers were looking to him for orders, and he did not disappoint them.

"Recall all ground forces. Half will bolster our internal defenses, and the others will establish positions around the mountain. Keep all of our ships in the air, and prep the rest of the fleet for launch. We must assemble all remaining forces and stop this elf before she does even more damage. I will personally lead the operation."

As his officers burst into action, Belenos walked calmly across the room, to where one of three doors loomed. It opened noiselessly before he could reach it, and a number of armed fairies were waiting in the hallway beyond, all of them garbed in the very best attire and gear, all cold and awaiting orders. They saluted Belenos when he emerged into the corridor, and he nodded. These were his personal guards, his most trusted soldiers aside from Vepar and his team.

"The Captain has nowhere to run," he said coolly. "Let us ensure that she gets a proper welcome."

Belenos was already wearing his officer's uniform, and he was handed a tactical vest, which he put on before accepting a tri-barreled laser rifle. This weapon was his favorite, and he held it readily alongside the blaster he had in his holster. Armed and prepared, he nodded to his officers and gave the order to advance. In unison they moved, and Belenos, leading at the forefront of the group, was the only one not wearing a helmet—the only face among featureless masks. It would have been safer to go fully geared up, but Belenos was an old soldier and had full confidence in his abilities. And apart from that, a dark motivation churned in his heart. He wanted Holly to see his face when their fateful encounter came. He wanted to look her in the eye, at that final moment, and send her to the place where Coral had so tragically gone. It was the only outcome he could envision. Holly had thrown away her last chance.

 **Level A4, Laconus Headquarters**

A burst of neutrino fire tore through the pearlescent corridor, followed by the sound of a toppling body on the cold metal floor. Holly Short stepped over this stunned fairy without pause, her stride strong and her eyes ever watchful; her pulse rifle hummed readily, its barrel exuding a shimmering aura of heat and energy. For ten minutes she had been doing this, running around shooting everything that moved, and that was not going to change. Her plan was simple: she had no plan. After blowing up the reactor all she could do was survive in hopes that Root and the others would come to her aid. She did not know what she was in for, and she did not know where to go. To be honest, she was making it all up as she went, flying through a storm of deadly chaos by nothing more than instinct.

Holly kept to one side of the corridor as she came upon a corner, and when she aimed around it she was greeted by a fusillade of lase fire. Ducking back around the turn, she pressed herself against the wall and waited for the storm of hot energy to cease liquidating the wall opposite her. When it stopped, she burst into action, though not without wondering at how insane it all was: she could envision her mother, her father, even her likeminded mentor Vinyáya, balking at her methods. _Yeah, this is crazy…_

The elf primed a concussor grenade and tossed it around the corner, and she could hear the fairies beyond making surprised exclamations. The blast followed instantly, filling the air with noise and sending a tremor through the metal surfaces, and it was during this bedlam that Holly aimed around the corner and opened fire. Her enemies were scattered and on the floor due to the kinetic blast, and she shot each and every one of them before they could get up. She didn't give a shit about being fair, she never did, and most certainly not when her foes would give no quarter. She let her fury feast, though her countenance was almost emotionless as she pulled the trigger and walked past a haphazard mess of wounded officers a moment later. She was becoming numb to it all.

In this cold manner Holly proceeded, this time towards the main elevator system. If there was one thing she could do, it was to spread out the damage she was causing and find a way out at the same time. The thought of visiting the wretched laboratory came to mind, and it made her grin. Yeah, she'd love to set off a bomb in that room; send all of their clandestine research to hell. This idea, however, was destroyed when she reached the elevator, because the moment she arrived a group of thirty officers were waiting for her. She had no choice but to run, and though she struck two down in the process, she could not stop the other twenty-eight, who pursued her. Back through the corridor she ran, past countless doors, always with the sound of her pursuers behind her. More appeared ahead of her a moment later, cutting off her escape, and given their number there was no way she could take them on and survive. In light of this, Holly was forced to act quickly and desperately. As the enemy began to take shots at her, she aimed her pulse rifle at one of the doors and blasted its locking mechanism to bits. Amidst a hail of laser charges Holly lunged, and she struck the weakened door with her shoulder, making it open. She stumbled into the gloomy expanse beyond, turned around, and closed the door again, this time melting it around the edges with less powerful shots. _That will keep them busy for a few seconds…_

At this moment Holly turned around and began to run through the long chamber. It was poorly lit, and had a number of doors running along both sides, all locked and marked by symbols that she did not understand. The smell was what struck her the most. It reeked of sweat, excrement, and fear—hopelessness. Holly was not aware of its source until she was near the far end, where a large area was caged in by electrically charged bars, and when she caught sight of it she stopped dead in her tracks, all of her haste suddenly shattered by what she saw.

"By the gods…"

The caged in area was filled with humans. They were of all ages and ethnicities, and they all sat motionless on the cold metal floor, completely silent despite Holly's presence. She stared at them for a moment, and then walked a little closer, and as she did so her stomach churned. The smell was horrendous, but far worse was the sight. They were all naked, stripped down and left to suffer, and they wore expressions of such forlorn dejection that the very notion of hope was impossible in their midst. Holly was right by the bars when she stopped, and she could hear the humming of their electrical charge. Caged in like animals, trapped and broken, these humans were shadows of their former selves. They didn't even look at her. "What have they done to you…" she whispered as she looked at them. The nearest of them was a boy no older than ten, and despite his young age his visage was contorted by the very same brokenness as all the others, robbed of innocence. Only the sound of her enemies blasting at the door at the other end broke Holly out of her stupor, and when that happened she came to a quick decision. She could not just walk away, not from this.

Bringing her pulse rifle to bear, Holly placed three perfect shots into the heavy metal door that kept the humans trapped in the cage. The barrier shuddered and swung open, and as it did Holly waited for the humans to react, certain that they would see the opportunity to escape and take it. To her horror, they did not. Not a single one of them even looked her way. It was as if they did not care anymore, as if nothing mattered; as if they were trapped in themselves, locked away by fear and sorrow. Holly stared at this unexpected turn of events and blinked in disbelief. The sounds of her foes shooting the door made her call out desperately.

"Come on! Get out of here!"

Her words were met by deaf ears, but she could not accept it. She stormed into the cage and knelt down beside the nearest human, the boy she had seen first. After taking off her helmet, she put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently. She did not know what language he spoke, but she hoped her voice would be enough.

"Please, listen to me! You have to get up! You have to run!"

This time the boy looked up at her, slowly and without a sound, and when his wide green eyes locked on hers she felt a coldness rise within her very soul. She had expected them to be under the influence of the Mesmer, but this boy was not. His eyes were clear, their fear apparent and their brokenness shining in every reflection of the overhead lights. And yet, deep within them, there was no thought, no urge, no feeling. They were empty eyes.

 _No, this can't be…_ Holly thought as she stared into them, seeing through to a shattered life. Never had she seen someone so torn up on the inside, so obliterated in mind and spirit. Yet still she could not accept it. She stood up slowly, looked across the whole gathering of motionless humans, and yelled. "Why don't you do anything?! You can't stay here!" She stomped her booted heel on the floor, making a loud echo. "Get up! Go!"

"Save your breath, Holly, they are not going anywhere."

Holly spun around upon hearing this voice, and she quickly left the cage to see that her ears did not lie. At the other end of the room, where the door was not melted shut, was Major Belenos himself. He stood on his own there, surrounded by the gloom, and his emerald eyes seemed to catch all of the faint light to shine with an ominous luminosity. Holly stared at him through glaring eyes, filled with the urge to shoot him and yet pacified by her furious curiosity.

"What the hell have you done to them?!"

Belenos did not answer immediately. Instead he took a few steps closer, his laser rifle held readily and his face unsettling in its calmness, as if he was perfectly at ease around the ruined humans. "I put them back in their rightful place," he stated coldly, as if remarking about an established fact. "They are humans, mud men, the greatest filth of this earth. They are not worthy of the gift of free thought. They are not even worthy of life."

"That is not for you to decide, you bastard!" Holly growled.

"Who, then, will do so in my place?" Belenos asked. "This great duty has fallen to me, and despite its evident immorality I will carry it through. You know I will."

"You're wrong, you're all wrong!" Holly rasped. "I have seen what you do to these people, I have witnessed it. There is nothing great about your _duty_ , it's just madness!"

"Ah yes, so you know about my final solution then? My _magnum opus_."

Holly's glare somehow doubled in strength, as did the fire in her voice. "A virus. You plan to wipe them all out with a virus…"

Belenos nodded. "Correct, Captain, that is my mission, and allow me to explain…" He eyed Holly for a moment, waiting for her to do something. Holly remained still, but prepared, and he carried on. "You see, if I wanted to simply destroy the humans for no other reason than to destroy them, I could have done so decades ago. All it would have taken was an elementary hacking of NORAD and other defense systems in order to make the Americans and their allies think that the Soviet Union was launching its ICBMs. A nuclear war would have them all dead or dying within hours. But alas, it would destroy the surface completely, turning all of our inheritance into ruin. That is not what the People deserve. I considered other methods, many methods. The epiphany came to me when I was studying the global influenza outbreak that happened to the humans after their first world war. It killed almost a hundred million of them with ease, more than their silly war, and that made my method clear. I studied all of the best strains that affect humanity, smallpox and Ebola for example, and with biotechnology it is rather simple to toy with the genetic structure of these entities. What we needed was a virus that would only target human genes with absolutely zero chance of cross-species transmission. It had to be airborne and extremely contagious, resilient in all environments, impervious to medicine, and perfectly deadly. And that's exactly what we have."

Belenos paused, walking alongside the cage and eyeing the humans within, a wicked glint in his eyes. "It acts swiftly upon even the most robust immune system, its general timeframe from exposure to death at only twenty-four hours. It has no symptoms, and it hijacks the human nervous system, making the patient ignorant to the effects until it is too late. What it does is simple and, oddly, painless. It infects every cell in every vital organ in the body, taking control of them in order to replicate itself, and then, when the infection has passed its incubation period, it kills all of said cells in an instant, bursting them via rapid replication." Belenos smiled a little, now looking at Holly again. "It gets a little messy when one's insides become paste, but it's better than the death they truly deserve. Am I not correct, Captain?"

Holly stared into Belenos' eyes, seeing nothing but pure honesty. It made her shiver, and she could not reply for the life of her, not until her momentary shock wore off. "You're a monster," she growled through barred teeth, sickened and horrified. "Not even the humans compare to you. You're a murderer, a devil!"

Belenos' unfeeling expression did not change, but he spoke with a slightly harder tone, as if Holly's condemnation actually offended him. "You see me as Mephistophelian, I understand. I have and will do terrible things, Captain. You have been to my laboratory, and the place beneath. You have seen the horrors of my making, the unspeakable acts that are done in secret here. You've seen it all, the veil of ignorance has been removed from your eyes and mind…" His eyes bored into her, and there was a powerful force behind their unsettling gaze, a pure strain of conviction. "You have the right to try and stop me, to kill me even. You have the right to do that. But you have no right to judge me, Holly, not a single one of you LEP pawns has that right." He was only a few paces away from her now, his emerald eyes showing a mysterious darkness. "After all my years of working to save the People, the vexatious nature of people like you has never changed. It is impossible for me to describe what is necessary to those like you, those who do not understand the nature of this war. You do not understand, Holly, nor do your leaders who so eagerly want to terminate my command and stop this necessary mission. You are all blind."

"I'm seeing things clearly now more than ever," Holly growled.

"Then what do you see?" Belenos replied softly. "What do you see in humanity, these creatures who killed Coral and countless others? What makes them worthy of forgiveness?"

Holly slowly looked back to the cage, back at the heartbreaking sight of those broken people, so callously robbed of their very minds and left as hollow shells to be used as lab rats. Her hands gripped her weapon even tighter, and her face twitched with a mixture of anger and sadness; within her mind there came a recollection of another's convictions, ones that had rubbed off on her. She looked away from the tragic scene, and stared Belenos in the eye. At that moment Coral's words became hers.

"Humanity is not our enemy. It is their ignorance that destroys the world, not their hearts."

There was a twinkle in Belenos' eye. "Spoken like a true Short, your mother would be proud."

"Shut up," Holly retorted. "I'm tired of you speaking about her. You know nothing about her!" Her words only served to make the elf opposite her speak with a slightly more deadly tone.

"I know more than you ever could, you had so little time with her while she was alive."

Holly raised her rifle, aiming it right at his forehead. "Shut up!" Only ten feet stood between them, and despite her sudden and perfect aiming at his face, Belenos did not even flinch. He simply stared at her, his own weapon not even raised; he was absolutely certain about everything, even when death stared him in the face.

"Shoot me then," he said calmly. "I honestly do not know why you have not done so already. All this time you let me talk and talk, run my mouth about things you'd rather not hear, and yet instead of taking action you just stood there. You wrongly put up with me, just like you wrongly put up with the humans and their wretched influence." He shook his head slowly, disappointed. "You let your curiosity get the best of you. You should have killed me the moment I entered this room."

"Don't tempt me!" Holly growled, raising the lethality setting on her weapon to its maximum—it was the first time in her life she had done so while aiming at a live person.

"Putting on a veneer of ruthlessness, how quaint," Belenos stated, cool as a cucumber. "Allow me to reciprocate…"

From behind Belenos appeared two-dozen armed fairies, all of them unshielding and shimmering into existence amidst the gloom; their dark attire and featureless masks made this transition startling in its smoothness, as if they were all truly born from the shadows. At the same time there was a noise behind Holly, back where she had come from, and from there came yet another two-dozen operatives, all prepared to turn her to ash. They surrounded her in seconds, forming a circle layered by a phalanx of raised weapons; she was trapped, caged in just like the humans beside her. Against such odds, Holly could only gamble. She kept her weapon aimed a Belenos and yelled out with dreadfully pointed words.

"Don't move, any of you! I will kill him! I swear it!" Her eyes remained on her target, but her hands were almost trembling, and her mind was awash with anxiety. Her opponent watched her like always, and his very expression, so calm and certain, called her bluff and dared her to do otherwise.

Holly kept her eyes on Belenos', and she refused to look away; they were locked into a mutual test of spirit, a battle of convictions, a rivalry of hearts and minds. She kept him there, with her own gaze, and she did so not only to show no weakness, but also to keep his attention away from everything but her. Though she was surrounded and apparently doomed, she was not convinced of failure just yet. She had known the whole time that Belenos had a small army of officers waiting in the hallway; the moment he had appeared she had realized she was trapped. Had she shot Belenos and tried to escape then, they would have easily killed her. Now, as she had hoped, they were all in the room with her, close at hand and within reach. It was the perfect time, the only opportunity, and she could not hesitate. She only had one more chance.

"This is your last chance," she growled. "Stand down, or I will kill him!"

Belenos' face did not change, ironlike in its certitude. "You don't have it in you. You never have and you never will."

This was the moment, the final glitter of chance before all was lost; like a transient gap in a storm, there one moment and gone the next, a pathway through certain death was presented. Against every urge in her being, Holly slowly lowered her weapon in outward surrender, holding it with one hand while the other crossed over to rest on her forearm. As she did this, she spoke softly, almost inaudibly. "You're right…" She squeezed her forearm with that hand, but it was not an act of shame, insecurity, or defensiveness—there was a button hidden there, wired beneath the uniform, and with that deceptive motion she pressed it. _I will be back for you,_ she thought to the humans beside her, and then everything was blinded out by an appalling explosion of light and noise. All of Holly's stun grenades had gone off at once, detonating while still attached to her belt and projecting outwards their shocking power—a setup she had preemptively modified to work just right. She had closed her eyes and plugged her ears at the last moment, and though it was not nearly enough, it was a lot better than those around her, who were too busy holding weapons to do anything at all.

The ring of armed fairies stumbled back in disarray, temporarily blinded and deafened by the detonations. The few that had helmets on were impeded by their debilitated comrades, and no one fired a shot, not with such high chances of striking one of their own. Amidst all of this Holly burst into action, leaving her dropped pulse rifle where it was and drawing both of her neutrinos to open fire on what few enemies still remained unaffected. She burst through them with a devastating charge, growling like an animal and shooting like a lunatic. Her ears were ringing madly, making all of what happened in that chaotic moment surreally muffled, as if distant, like thunder flashing far away. She had lost sight of Belenos during the chaos, but she did not look for him; she ran for her life.

This insane escape attempt took all but ten seconds, and it was preceded by yet another series of explosions, these ones going off at random locations where she had hidden her remaining explosive charges. The very floor trembled at these, and it served to further disorient and scatter her foes who, by nothing more than sheer luck, had not landed a hit on her. The last stretch before the exit was blocked by three fairies, each wearing helmets and thus unaffected. They aimed at her when she burst through the throng of stunned officers, but she was fast. One shot from her neutrino hit one of them in the throat, and at the same time she ducked low and rolled beneath another's burst of laser shots. As she came up she fired with both weapons, hitting that fairy thirty times, and the last one, nearly knocked over by the former's sudden collapse, could not shoot before she bodychecked him. They both went down in a heap, but Holly shot him as they fell and was on her feet the next moment. Finally, she emerged into the corridor and its promise of escape. She had absolutely no idea how that plan had worked so well, but she quickly pushed such wonder aside and focused on surviving.

The moment she burst out into the corridor she started running, and with her would-be killers right on her tail, she was inclined to sprint like she was going for gold at the Olympics. She left a trail of HE grenades behind her, all timed to go off in intervals, and these detonations kept pursuit at bay. Even still, laser bolts screamed past her head, though thankfully they were randomly aimed through the wall of smoke her grenades had created. Things were looking up, but that good luck seemed all but spent when she came around the next corner.

Along the entire right side of that hallway was a transparent wall that overlooked the hangar bay, and there were no doors on its other side save an elevator at the far end—an elevator that opened the moment she set her eyes on it. Captain Vepar Cailleach emerged from it first, followed by fifteen others, and all of them set their eyes and weapons on her in an instant. However, Holly already had an HE grenade primed and thrown, and they had no option but to run back into the elevator before it detonated.

The explosion, however loud and destructive, did not distract Holly from a looming shadow that was appearing to her right. She looked and saw, rising slowly from the hangar below, a fully armed Zephyr gunship. The sight should have frozen Holly in her tracks, but there was no time for even fear to strike at her. With both ends of the hallway blocked by pursuing forces, she decided to go against every shred of wisdom and every grain of logic—even against her own _less_ reckless proclivities. She charged straight at the window, directly at the gunship hovering twenty feet beyond, and opened fire with both neutrinos at once. The window blasted outwards to her shots, and the ship beyond, amidst the hail of glittering glass, opened fire at the exact same time as she was vaulting out into the open air. Two missiles exploded from their housings in the ship's wings, and with deafening roars careened towards their mortal target, who was flying through the air with a glare on her face and a roar of her own. The projectiles screamed past her, missing her by inches, and exploded violently within the corridor behind her. The resulting shockwave gave Holly a boost, taking her right towards the canopy of the hovering gunship. She stared down at it in the perceived slow motion of her flight, and growled menacingly.

"My turn!"

With both neutrinos set to their highest level, she laid down a storm of shots upon the opaque cockpit, all while she flew towards it on a wave of fire and smoke. The shots tore into the heavy material, melting it and rendering it fragile, and though none of them breached the canopy Holly was not concerned—that's what she was for. Letting gravity drop her like a rock, she descended on an angle towards the hovering ship, and made it so that her heavy combat boots were the first to meet it. At that last moment she was overcome by incredulity at her own actions, and it was clear that the pilot within was equally as astonished, because he did nothing to avoid her. As her feet met her target, Holly thought just one thing. _This is insane…_

The surreal slowness of the moment crashed to an end. Her feet struck, material shattered, and onward she went right into the control room itself—right into the pilot who sat there gawking at her arrival. Though Holly was not at all heavy, her gear was, and her momentum multiplied it manifold; to have all of that come down on one individual was quite painful. The next thing Holly knew she was landing feet-first on the chest of the pilot. The blow was enough to knock him out, and they both ended up in a tangle of limbs the next moment. Quite understandably, the ship they were in lost control at the same time.

"D'arvit!" Holly rasped, desperately grabbing the controls of the ship while at the same time trying to detach herself from the unconscious pilot. The floor was rushing to meet her, and the ship was scraping against the metal walls as it went. The noise was horrendous, as was the distinct possibility of death, but even more so than this was the sound of Holly's determined scream. "Come on!" Against seconds and slim odds, the ship came out of its dive and scraped the floor of the hangar, and then shot upwards on an angle. Holly gritted her teeth as she tried to regain control, and when she did she quickly tossed the pilot from the seat into the back compartment—with a curt _sorry_ of course.

To even think of such a feat was ridiculous, let alone to believe it possible. Yet as Vepar Cailleach and his officers reached the blasted corridor and looked out into the hangar, they were treated to a bizarre show of luck. Their gaping expressions changed when the ship came around and aimed right at them. "Get back!" Vepar yelled, at the same time as a burst of laser shots came towards them. They ran, and Holly, watching from within her stolen ship, grinned menacingly.

 _That's for earlier, assholes!_

Vepar and his officers had retreated en masse, and no one else could be seen through the cloud of black smoke that her barrage had created. It had felt good, but Holly did not lose herself in such lust; she had to keep going, she had to escape. Bringing the ship around, she set her eyes on the hangar exit, which was closed to her. All of the other personnel in the hangar had either fled or rushed towards the defensive cannons; the latter were taking aim and charging to fire. Holly wasted no time. With an eager expression she literally punched the afterburner button.

The Zephyr shot forth like a rocket, heat and fire blazing from its rear and a deafening noise coming from its engines. Cannons fired upon it, and a metal door blocked its path, but its pilot was not deterred—frankly, there was nothing else she could do. Holly went straight at the door, firing everything the ship had is in arsenal. Missiles took flight by the dozens, smaller rockets in cascading waves, and six multi-barreled cannons spat liquefying streams of laser. This deluge of fire hammered into the hangar door, melting steel and blasting a portion of it outwards into the night, leaving a large hole clean through it. Holly, braving the constant barrage from the hangar's guns, went straight for this improvised salvation.

Far behind on the level she had jumped from, Belenos emerged through the thick clouds of smoke to witness this bedlam. He saw Holly fleeing in one of his ships, and immediately knew that she would make it out alive—the impossible, and yet both she and her mother seemed to always do exactly that. Behind him stood his officers, all staring with mixed expressions and a mutual fury; they thought that they could do nothing about their enemy now, defeatist. Belenos did not spend any time wallowing in anger. Instead, he looked to the elf to his left. The officer was holding a plasma cannon—a portable launcher of sorts—and seemed too stupefied to use it.

"Give me that!" Belenos growled, taking the weapon at the same time. He shouldered it immediately, switched off its safety, and lined up the retreating ship in its scope. He did not think about the life of the pilot in that stolen ship, only the vexatious elf that was there with him. Sacrifices were necessary sometimes. A pull of the trigger shot forth a devastating burst of superhot plasma, and it flew, with startling speed, right into the rear end of the hijacked vessel, melting metal like snow in an open flame. Belenos watched as it struck, and then handed the launcher back to the stunned officer. He then looked at the ship, which was smoking and spiraling out of control, and grinned a wolfish grin.

"Not this time, Captain…"

Holly was doing anything but grinning. She was swearing aloud and desperately trying to regain control of the ship. It was now spiraling out of control over the mountainous terrain of the island, trailing smoke and leaking a tail of flame that seemed to light up the whole night like a crimson moon. There seemed to be no way of stopping it. "Not again…" Holly rasped, struggling with the controls. "I will not crash on this godsforesaken island again!" She fought hard against the forces that would bring her down, using every trick she had learned from Vinyáya while in the academy, but it was not nearly enough; the Zephyr was a model she was unaccustomed to, and its entire rear end was a deformed mass of molten alloy. A few more shots, fired from a hidden anti-air placement outside the hangar, sealed the deal, clipping off the right wing and riddling the compartment with holes. One of these shots struck Holly's seat, slicing it nearly in half and obliterating its ejection system, and after it happened she sat there in awe at the narrow miss and the implications of all that damage. Nothing, not even Holly, could slow down the resulting plunge.

"Oh gods no…" she rasped, staring with wide eyes as she plummeted towards the looming monstrosity of one of the mountains—towards rock and gloomy jungle, and a terrible death. She held on for dear life as everything trembled and fell apart, but she could not close her eyes—she would not, ever, look away from a fate that was before her. Instead she watched, with a fearful gaze, as the shadowy mountain got closer and closer. Seconds alone were all she had, and they were not enough—there was no time to think, to cry, to pray, or to remember one last time the things she had lived for. Then the seconds were up, and into the mountain she crashed, her whole world and all of its hopes shattered by a devastating impact and a chaos of rending steel.


	15. Call to Arms

**Lower Elements Police Headquarters, Haven  
**

To overcome adversity, to be victorious during the many trials of life, one must first believe in their own latent power to do so. Self-confidence, like glue, holds together efforts that, under the fiery barrages of hardship and impossible odds, would otherwise fall apart and turn into self-destructive failures. Success, like any endeavor, needs solid ground before it can reach the apex of one's ambitions, and all the while forces both internal and external seek to shake its foundations. These forces certainly came from the outside for Foaly, but not from within. For his whole life he had believed that there was no technical problem he could not solve, that his intellect would always best the obstacles that rose to meet him. His confidence in himself was seemingly unshakable, if not foolishly stubborn, but regardless of its drawbacks it served to make his work tireless and impressive—he could not fail, not under any circumstances. Egotism was natural to his character, but so was hard work and dedication. That was why most of his superiors, especially Root, viewed him with equal parts of favor and disdain. He was a brilliant technical officer, and a brilliant pain in the ass.

The centaur was alone in his cramped office, glued to his desk as he worked like mad. There was no bravado, no arrogance, and certainly no overconfidence in his expression as he did so, for not even he could display such things at a time like this. Never had he been in such a personal and professional crisis, with a powerful enemy evading him and his best friend, Holly Short, at their mercy. He had known her for only a few years, but their relationship had flourished and become a solid bond, so much so that he could not imagine a life where she was not in the LEP alongside him. A centaur with his personality would usually be disdained and isolated in a professional workplace, and many of the old-school officers did so towards him before he had become more prominent, but Holly never did—she was like him, a radically different breed of officer, a loose cannon. She had been his closest confidant ever since they had met; she had always had his back, been there to lend support, and never did she let the irrelevancies of life impede their friendship. Holly was truly a gem among dirt, a rare treasure in life's tarnished fields of grey. And now, amidst a crisis he had only just been informed of, she was in grave danger.

It made Foaly angry at himself that he had been unaware of Holly's troubles. He had not been given the memo, and when Holly along with a number of higher-level officers left their normal duties he assumed that they were going on some sort of special mission—correctly assumed, but not so in scope. It angered him even more that while Holly was struggling to survive he had been sitting in his office and thinking about his paycheck and how much of a genius he was; his best friend was on the verge of death, and he was just kicking back and enjoying his own perceived awesomeness. _D'arvit Foaly, you selfish fool!_ he thought to himself, a spiteful expression on his face. He was supposed to be there for her, just as he had been when her mother had passed away. But he was not, and now, with so much incertitude and dark trepidation tingeing his thoughts, he felt that it was too late to meet that mark. In a way, he had failed her. But he was not giving up.

It was his duty—and his most heartfelt desire—to save her, and he would no matter what. But he needed to find Laconus first, which was a needle in a haystack. For ten nonstop hours he had worked, absentmindedly chugging sim-coffee and consuming whatever snacks he had in his drawer while he used every fragment of knowledge and skill he possessed. Hours ago he had approached the task with the belief that he would succeed with ease—after all, he was only up against a bunch of old officers who had been hiding under a rock for a hundred years—but as time passed he was treated to the reality that his ego so passionately disdained. Despite all that he was, he could not find a way to isolate any signals or telltale signs of the enemy. He was being outsmarted by them. _Outsmarted!? Ridiculous!_ That was his ego talking, but the rest of his being ignored it. For one of the few times in his life, his egotism was utterly stripped of its power, chained away in the back of his mind. Nothing mattered right now but finding Laconus and saving his friend.

Remotely trying to find Laconus' base was a tall order, but the alternative was to physically search the entire South Pacific with low-flying craft and drones until something popped up. Both were being done simultaneously, but Foaly had been convinced the latter would not be necessary. Now he was not so sure. "Come on…" he rasped, sitting back and stroking his chin as he eyed the screens before him. It was a complex problem, extreme in its novelty and outright unique. Whatever Laconus was using, they had devised it themselves and kept it in pace with the LEP's technology. The centaur wore a perpetual frown as he continued to work, his mind working quickly on hypotheses and ideas while his body dragged itself onward with ever lessening strength. He was exhausted, but his fiery resolve to save Holly kept him on track. No matter how worn out he became, she kept him going—just as she would have done if their roles were reversed. _Please be alright, Holly,_ he thought as he worked on a new approach. _I will never be able to forgive myself if I fail you now…_

Foaly was honestly praying for a miracle at this point, his confidence so shaken that he resorted to reassuring thought and desperate grasps at hope. The truth was that Holly had been MIA for over twelve hours, and from what he knew about Laconus and its leader, Belenos, that was far too long. So much could happen in mere minutes, let alone hours. With this fear scraping at his conscience, he delved into a different means of using his vast network of satellites and scanning equipment, one that was purely theoretical. This new method, however improvised, was destined to work at the precise moment when Holly, on the other end of the spectrum, offered a transient opening in the enemy's defenses. One moment Foaly was staring at meaningless code and a blank map, and the next he was looking upon the one thing he had been praying for. When he saw it he not only gawked like a fool, but he also knocked his coffee off his desk and shattered his beloved "I'm a genius" mug on the floor. On any other day he would have been inclined to lament this senseless loss, but he did not here; he didn't even notice that he had burned himself. All that existed to him was a single line of green gnomish text and a tiny red blip on the map. He stared at these as if they were his salvation, and then, when he had double-checked the results, he clapped his hands together with a single loud report and smiled. He did not hesitate to call Commander Root on his communicator, and the elf was in his office no more than a minute later. The elf's countenance was more crimson than usual with the stress of waiting for a sign of Holly's location, and it did not lessen when Foaly shed on him a ray of hope. Quite oppositely, Root entered the room with a cigar in his mouth and a glare on his face.

"What do you have for me?" he growled through his teeth as he sucked impulsively on the cigar.

"A signal, sir, very faint but of the exact sort our intelligence suggested. And it's right in the middle of the South Pacific, close enough to the underground network to be linked." Foaly paused, looked back to his superior and speaking frankly. "It's Laconus, it has to be."

This revelation changed Root in an instant. His glare softened a little, and his voice lost some of its impatient edge. He looked over Foaly's shoulder at the map, a quizzical expression on his face. "None of our other surveillance networks found anything like this…"

"They were all doing things by the book," Foaly replied, trying to ignore the swirling smoke from the nearby cigar. "Laconus has very good tech at their fingertips, and they likely know exactly how we would usually go about fishing for them. I threw in a few unorthodox methods with a little more success, however…" He paused, his face changing as something else occurred to him. "…I don't think that's what ultimately gave us a location. It seems that there was a temporary lapse in their countermeasures, a shimmer if you will. Something briefly reduced the strength of it, letting my signal get through, though only for two one-thousandths of a second. I almost missed it…But I didn't…"

"Thank you, Foaly," Root said honestly, all the while gazing at the readings. "This is what we needed to bring them down. Now we have it."

Foaly nodded, caught between listening and typing in fields on the command console of his system. He stopped suddenly, and spoke with a serious voice. "Julius?"

"Yes?" the elf replied, internally perturbed by the use of his name but willing to listen.

"The signal, it's from Holly's transponder."

"You got a connection to her helmet?" Root replied. "Did you get any biometric data from it before the signal was lost?"

Foaly shook his head. "None, it's as if she's not wearing it anymore."

"I see…"

"She's alive," the centaur said confidently, anxiety twisting his features but hope in his eyes. "It has to be her. No one else could have disrupted their countermeasures like that. It was her all along. She's still fighting, while we're sitting here doing nothing."

"Not for long," Commander Root said firmly, his face contorted by a determination that had its roots in a past struggle with the very same foe. "We have what we need now, thanks to you and Captain Short." He stood up tall, crossing his arms and glaring at the red dot as if it alone contained all of the evil that Laconus had wrought. "We're going to bring the fight to them," he growled, the blazing tip of his cigar lighting up his fierce eyes. "We're going to end this once and for all."

The Commander took out his communicator and began to connect a secure call to Commander Vinyáya, and as he did his other hand rested on the tri-barreled blaster that lay dormant in its holster; a battle was coming, and he instinctively knew it. Before he left the room he looked to Foaly one last time. "I want you to be our eyes and ears when it all goes down. You know what to do."

Foaly nodded, caught between anticipation and dread—there was so much darkness amidst the bright rays of hope. As Root was leaving he spoke after him, worry still marring his usually vivacious voice. "I will do all that I can from here, Commander. Good luck, and bring her home."

Root stopped at the door, and after a moment of thought—about what happened the last time he and Belenos crossed swords—he nodded. "We never abandon our own. We will bring her back." He then left the office, his stride strong and his face an ironlike veneer of confidence. But within he was concerned, for the past had taught him a lot about life and how tragic it could be. _We never leave one of our own behind. We bring them home, one way or another…_

 **Laconus Headquarters, Island of Taillte**

Midnight had fallen upon the island, making its forests impenetrable and its looming hills shadowed, their features all hidden by a uniform blackness. The ocean stretched for what seemed to be forever, and in the darkness the only thing that separated the water from the sky were the vibrant little pinpoints of light that flickered between the wisps of cloud. The storm had ended, leaving all coated in water, and those droplets would glitter like diamonds when the full moon burst between the ever-thinning clouds. Silvery rays cut through cool, humid air, and down upon one of the larger peaks there was a contrasting light, one of fire. The wreckage of the downed Zephyr was strewn across the hill and into the woods below, with only a few large chunks here and there. It was a total mess, obliterated, and all throughout the bits and pieces of that once proud machine lurked the reapers who were in search of their kill.

Captain Cailleach stood on the side of the hill, overlooking the small party of officers that were searching the wreckage. A few ships were flying overhead, using thermal sensors to detect life, but so far nothing had been found apart from the body of the officer who had been inside the ship with Holly. It was a terrible loss, but everyone viewed it as necessary—they all knew the risks, and when it came down to it, the success of their mission outweighed the importance of their individual lives. Still, Vepar frowned when the charred corpse was taken away. He could watch a million foes die the most terrible deaths and not even blink, but to see one of his comrades like that actually affected him, though only just a little. "Alright, we're moving on to the next area," he said gruffly after the body was extracted. The search had only begun ten minutes ago, but already he was getting impatient. He wanted to find Holly, dead or alive, and know that she was finally out of the picture. She was a skilled officer, and ridiculously brave as well; he respected that, but as a soldier he also viewed it with wariness. People like that needed to be killed a million times over it would seem, and he was getting tired of it.

"Sir," one of his officers said from across the site. "The main part of the cockpit has been located in sector three, partially intact."

There was a deadly glint in Vepar's eyes. "Then that's our next objective. Let's get to work."

As his officers climbed back into the waiting aircraft, he turned to look out over the lowlands, where a number of fires burned brightly; like the stars above, they gave light amidst an otherwise impenetrable darkness. He was taking the time to think, but that time was cut short by the sound of his communicator. He answered it after only a second of further rumination. The Major was on the other end.

 _"What is the status of the recovery mission?"_

"Favorable, Major," Vepar replied. "We have recovered the body of our fallen comrade, and we have isolated a likely location of the enemy's. We are en route to the latter as we speak."

 _"I am glad that you found our fallen brother,"_ Belenos said calmly. _"However, your search for Captain Short will have to be cut short. There are other matters I need you to attend to, and that includes all of your officers as well."_

Vepar was shocked to say the least, though his stoicism hid it. "With all due respect sir, we have not recovered her body yet. We don't know if she's alive or dead, and there's no telling what she may do if she's—"

 _"Your concerns are understandable, Captain,"_ Belenos replied firmly. _"However, Captain Short is just one elf, and the situation has changed. There are much greater threats on the horizon, and they can undo everything far faster than even she could manage."_

"What could that possibly be sir?" Vepar asked, his interest captured by the hint.

Belenos' voice, when he replied, was tinged by an almost undetectable bitterness. _"Commander Root himself, along with Vinyáya and a large contingent of LEP special forces."_

"But the island is secure…" Vepar said, his brow furrowed.

 _"It was,"_ the Major stated coldly. _"That has since changed. The damage Holly did to our generator created a small break in the refractive barrier, enough for a signal to get through. I was assured that it was not enough for any of our counterparts' satellites to pinpoint our location, but that is nonsense. I analyzed the logs myself, and then there's Captain Short's recon gear… She tore out the transponders in the jungle, as you recall, but they were still active at the time of the barrier's brief collapse…"_

Vepar's eyes narrowed into a serious glare. "You mean that…"

 _"Her helmet transponder was pinged by Haven,"_ Belenos said flatly. _"Even if they only received a momentary signal, it will be enough for Root to make a move, and I am most certain that he is doing so at this very moment. Though we have no spies in Haven any longer, our bugs in their surface terminals have given me reason to believe that a number of LEP ships are being repositioned. That is not a coincidence, Captain, it is a meditated move."_

In an instant Vepar's countenance lost its surprise and became grave and calculative. "How long do we have?"

 _"Enough time, just enough,"_ Belenos replied. _"Our mission has been rushed by these sudden events, but we shall succeed. Our only job now is to keep our ignorant kin from stopping us."_ There was a pause, then a string of firmly-spoken orders. _"You and your officers are to return to base and rearm. All forces are being mobilized, everything we have is on the table. We must be ready for them."_

Vepar nodded—he couldn't agree more. "It will be done." The line was cut, and once again Vepar stood in the relative tranquility of the night. This was a sudden change of pace, a complete shift in strategy. Moments ago they were on the offensive, and yet now they were making all efforts to dig in and buy as much time as possible. Vepar had no illusions about the necessity of such defense—he had fought against Root and his loyalists a hundred years ago, and had lost. He knew what had to be done, and it was far more important than searching for Holly. With a stern furrowing of his brow, he took one last look towards the fires in the jungle, and then turned his back on them—and his desire to hunt his enemy down—and returned to his ship. It was time to prepare for all-out war.

* * *

Far away, in the depths of Laconus Headquarters, Major Belenos put his communicator down upon the surface of a long table. Documents of all sorts covered the table; the scattered remnants of a determined research effort that was now complete. Belenos eyed them appreciatively, but was far more focused on the information that he viewed on his datapad. It was all highly advanced scientific data, cryptic to most but perfectly understandable to him. His emerald eyes saw great things in the steady progression of numbers and calculations, for they were all representative of his greatest creation, his magnum opus, the weapon that would bring humanity to its knees. It was officially called V-631, and it had been created by the late _Project Morrígan_ , a clandestine effort that had been running for decades.

The laboratory that loomed all around him was the same one that Holly had been in before. Burn marks and melted laser holes were still prevalent, but thankfully none of them had harmed anything irreplaceable. The room was presently filled with activity as other personnel worked double-time to meet the requirements of the new schedule. The moment Belenos put down his communicator and ended his conversation with Captain Cailleach, a feminine voice spoke from behind him.

"She is very tough, Belenos. It would not surprise me if she survived."

Belenos nodded. "Neither would I, Aoife. We both know firsthand the fire that burns within her heart. It is unquenchable, just like Coral's once was."

The Chief Medical Officer of Laconus, Aoife Vale, nodded while she focused on her own work. She stood by a vast array of advanced equipment, looking through a microscope at a small sample of the virus, and though she was entirely focused on her work her voice indicated a slight amount of resentment when she spoke. "I don't get what you saw in her, Belenos. She was our enemy, just as Holly is now."

"Often are friends made into foes by necessity," Belenos replied, still reading the report. "You know how it was, and how it is now. We have both lost a lot due to our commitment to the cause; our kin do not see as we do, and have vilified us. Thus our fates have been torn from their places amongst our past comrades and thrown into an inferno. That's just how it is."

"Always verbose and colorful with your description of things…" Aoife stated flatly. "After all these years you still speak as if you were auditioning for a theatrical production."

Belenos stopped reading his report and smiled, all the harshness in his countenance melting away. "You know me, Aoife."

"All too well," she replied, this time with a slight grin of her own.

Like many of the officers from his old division, Aoife Vale was an irreplaceable friend and confidant. The first time they had met was back when he had joined the LEP, when he was undergoing the physiological screening that all special forces applicants needed to complete. Little did he know then that Doctor Vale would become one of his most dedicated allies in his fight against the humans, and one of the most valuable as well. Though he was educated enough in bioscience to develop a virus, and though he had drawn up the plans for Project Morrígan, he was not the chef as it were. It was through Aoife's intelligence and extraordinary skill that V-631 was successfully developed. For decades they had worked on various other types of viruses, and through trial and error—and many hundreds of human test subjects—they had narrowed their focus and closed in on the perfect strain with which to infect the mud men. Aoife's work on Project Morrígan was indispensable, and her friendship of over two-hundred years was a treasure in its own right.

Now, with the base strain of V-631 complete, they were going through the final stage of preparation. It involved activating the virus, because each cell was programmed by a replicated biological chip that could control the virus itself, activating or killing it. It was a fail-safe, as even though their tests indicated a zero-percent chance of cross-species transmission, they were not stupid enough to put faith in even the best of odds. They believed in having every angle covered. The activating of the virus' fail-safe was quick and simple, though the programming of the biochip's tertiary functions followed, and that was a more complicated process. Currently Doctor Vale was ensuring that each sample—one from each of the fifty large capsules that lay on racks—had functional and properly-replicated biochips. Even she had acknowledged that having the virus susceptible to being deactivated remotely would present a problem, in the off chance that the LEP managed to do so. However, the simple fact was that the virus, once dispersed, would move like wildfire. By the time the LEP realized what was happening, half of humanity would be dead and the other half would be well on their way.

"All of the samples are within optimal parameters," Aoife said placidly as she took her eyes from the microscope. She began entering information on her datapad, and continued to speak. "Fail-safe activation is underway, that leaves programming and distribution to follow..." She paused, looking over to Belenos with a serious expression on her face. "We're cutting it very close, Belenos."

"I know," he replied, setting his datapad aside and facing her. "Captain Short has caused quite a few complications."

"To say the least," Aoife growled, absentmindedly rubbing the side of her head. Having been knocked out by Holly in her own medical bay and left in a tangled heap beneath bed sheets, she was quite perturbed and humiliated. Nonetheless, she was also impressed, though she was less inclined to show that as opposed to her vexation. She was a prideful individual, after all. "Whether or not she's alive, I hope she stays out of our way. We'll have enough on our hands if Julius and his dogs show up."

"Let me worry about Julius," Belenos said, walking over to her and holding her gaze. "I need you to remain here. I can trust no one other than you, Aoife, to make sure that our mission is a success."

The doctor nodded, as visibly determined as he. "I will begin the programming and loading procedures. But I will need time..."

Belenos put his right hand on Aoife's shoulder, his emerald eyes showing the magnitude of his confidence. "One way or another, you shall have it. We cannot afford to fail, not now. All of us are willing to sacrifice ourselves in order to accomplish that." His words were meant, and Aoife was of that same opinion. The prospect of dying, of throwing her life away to ensure the People's future, was acceptable, even noble. There was no fear in her eyes, just as there was no fear in her commander's. She smiled slightly, her hard expression softened by the old friendship between them, and through that smile she spoke softly.

"If it should come to that…"

"I know," Belenos whispered.

A few more seconds passed in silence, and then Belenos let go, assuming a stoic and professional demeanor; like the turning of a switch, he became someone else. "I will leave it in your hands, Doctor. Keep me updated."

Aoife saluted, her eyes once again cold and calculating. "Yes sir, Major."

With their emotions hidden behind veneers of stone, they went their separate ways. Belenos turned his back on his old friend and left the room with a solid pace, his countenance now the unyielding mask that he always wore. Already he was thinking about the defenses he would have to raise, the measures to be taken, and the casualties that would follow; his mind, like a shoal in a typhoon, was awash with the waters of thought, the waves of promised change. He passed through the door as fifty capsules—fifty MIRV warheads containing V-631—were being loaded onto a large gravity lift. Their destination was the very summit of the mountain that Laconus occupied, the place where the People's new beginning would flourish from humanity's bitter end.

 **LEP Hangar Bay, Chute E1, Haven**

In an empty corridor, awash with light and overshadowed by the muffled sounds of aircraft and heavy winds, two elves stood across from one another, speaking intimately about a course of action that would define the very future of the People—and humanity as well. Commanders Julius Root and Raine Vinyáya stood eye-to-eye, and they were so not out of disagreement, but rather personal necessity. Root's face was set in a look of complete certitude, his brown eyes and grizzled features formed into an expression that bespoke an unyielding intent. Raine, quite similarly, had a serious countenance, but there was also concern in her golden eyes, one that was both intimate and professional—for there were two aspects to the crisis they were in. Both were fully dressed in combat attire, bearing the insignia of their ranks, and had weapons holstered on their belts. They—and the whole force they commanded—were prepared for what was coming, but as with any action that was rife with danger, there was a final decision that had to be made, one last affirmation of will.

"You're absolutely certain about this?" Raine said to Julius, her voice quiet and yet ironlike.

"I am," Root replied with a nod. "Foaly is the best we have, and he's never wrong. This is the real deal, and we cannot sit on the sidelines any longer."

Raine nodded slowly, having heard what she expected to hear. She said nothing for a moment, the ominous sounds that came from the hangar beyond overshadowing the wariness that was in her expression; in her mind, she was considering the terrible truths of their present duty, as any leader would before charging into the hellfire of battle. "He will be waiting for us, Julius…"

Root nodded, openly acknowledging the dark premonitions that they shared. "I know, Raine," he said softly, "but I also know that if we do not act now we will give Belenos exactly what he needs most—time. He's had a hundred years…I cannot dispel the feeling that he is on the verge of accomplishing something terrible."

"I have that feeling as well," Raine said, her brow furrowed as she thought of it.

"And then there's Captain Short," Julius added, his voice taking on another form of seriousness—his fear of losing an officer. "Holly is still alive, still fighting while we have yet to fire a shot. I cannot sit back and let her continue on her own. I will not abandon an officer, not under any circumstances, especially one as promising as her." He paused, his eyes narrowing as he thought. "Belenos…I still cannot bring myself to look even his hologram in the eye. His betrayal, his madness…"

"We didn't see it coming back then, Julius," Vinyáya said, putting her hand on her old friend's shoulder. "It hurt all of us, and still does. I know how you feel."

Root nodded, but the frowns of his countenance only deepened. "He was like a brother to me…"

"He was a good elf, but that is gone now. The world has changed him far too much. He cannot bring himself back from that brink."

"I know," Julius said, clenching his fists. "I just hate that we have to go through all of this again. A hundred years has done nothing to heal those wounds. But he must be stopped, for his own good and for the world's. His madness will not stop until humanity is wiped out. I will not let that be the People's legacy."

"And we will stop him, and we will bring Holly back," Raine said firmly, keeping her hand on his shoulder. It was an uncommon gesture for one to use with Root, but the two of them had shared a difficult past; there was a friendship between them that was inalienable, a camaraderie that could not be dulled. For Root it was a rare thing, because in his professional life he could not show such feelings for others, not without risking his useful reputation and powerful image, both of which served to enhance his influence over his officers and strike fear into his enemies. It was hard, being who he was. He had to sacrifice a part of himself every day for the good of the People, forego one of life's beautiful gifts; like so many soldiers, living in the darkness so that others may live in the light. Only Raine and a few others knew that he could smile and laugh like anyone else.

"Yes, we will," he said after a moment of reflection. A genuine smile came to his face as he stood in the reassuring presence of one of his greatest friends. "I am glad to have you with us. You're the only one left who was with me on that day. Everyone else is gone."

"And I am equally as glad to have you alongside me," Rained replied with a brilliant smile of her own. "We will bring the fight to him once again, and this time he will not escape. We can end this."

Commander Root nodded, his face hardening as he adopted the proper mindset for the mission at hand. He took a long, calming breath, and then looked into his friend's eyes. "Shall we?"

Vinyáya nodded. "Let's not keep Belenos waiting."

Together they walked towards the door, towards the muffled sounds of ships and shouted orders. Both of them became, during those few seconds, the steadfast commanders that everyone knew them to be, putting aside their personal feelings and ignoring the fear and uncertainty that even they could not escape. Root's face became redder as he approached the door, as if every step brought him deeper and deeper into a state of anger. To complete the ensemble he lit a fungus cigar, and with that trademark accoutrement exuding a trail of acrid smoke, he emerged into the hangar bay for all of his officers to see.

The hangar bay was awash with activity as the special taskforce prepared to move out. Apart from the three retrieval teams initially selected to take part, an additional six were present as well, all due to Root's appeal to the council to have more discretion over the mission. They had given him that power, and he did not disappoint them. Aside from the teams of officers, the force had thirty ships—nine transports for the special forces teams, and twenty-one interceptors for multi-role support. Of all of the officers present, not a single one of them was raw. They were all the best of the best the LEP had to offer. And yet, for all of their skill and experience, all of these battle-hardened officers stopped where they were upon seeing the two commanders enter the hangar. They instantly came to attention, standing tall and silently in the presence of their leaders. This was not done out of necessity either; these elite soldiers were less inclined to show respect even to a superior if they were not worthy of it. Root and Vinyáya , unlike far too many of the top brass in the LEP, deserved the utmost respect, for they were not indolent generals who had never tasted fear or seen the horrors of war, but soldiers who had been through it all and now used their positions of power to lead with wisdom and rightness. Julius was seen as one of the LEP's greatest leaders, not only because of his past, but also because of his fierce devotion and love for his officers. As Sun Tzu rightly said, the commander who regards his soldiers as his children will have them following him into the deepest valleys; the commander who looks on them as his own beloved sons will have them stand by him unto death. So they did now.

Root felt all eyes on him as he stood in the relative silence of the now motionless hangar. He could not help but feel an enormous swelling of pride within him as he surveyed his officers. They were truly his brothers, all of them, and he had the privilege of leading them into battle. So many leaders saw their soldiers as pawns; Julius saw these brave fairies as equals. Of course, as their leader he could not show this transparently, as that would loosen his command, but he nonetheless nodded at each and every one of them and spoke aloud.

"Our course of action is set. We will move against Laconus and bring our fellow officer home. This will be a difficult mission, I will not lie to you about that, but I trust that all of you will do your best, and through that we shall succeed." He paused, taking a pull on his cigar and blowing a cloud of smoke into the warm air. "Carry on."

Everyone burst into action once again, continuing their preparations with renewed vigor. Root stood by and watched as the retrieval teams began to climb into the idling transports. Vinyáya, who stood beside him, spoke over the rising din of engines.

"My fighter squadron is waiting for orders. I must go and join them." She paused, waiting until he was looking her in the eye. "Watch out for yourself up there, Julius. I know that you and Belenos go way back, but do not let that make you do anything suicidal."

"I won't," Root growled, biting the end of his cigar. "Be careful as well. Your flying methods are almost as terrifying as Captain Short's."

"Well I did instruct her," Vinyáya replied with a smile.

"Indeed, that certainly shows."

There was a momentary silence between them as they thought of what else to say. Both were going their separate ways; Julius to lead the retrieval teams, and Raine to lead the fighter squadron. They would not see each other again face to face until the battle was over, and that, inevitably, made them wonder if they would survive to see that moment at all. They were confident in their own abilities, but they were not foolish. They knew how quick and unexpected death could be, and in war, it was anything but unexpected. All it took was one mistake, one second of error, to end even the most accomplished of officers. It was an unsettling tangent of thought that neither of them lingered on. Instead they focused on each other, in that final moment before they parted.

"Good luck," Vinyáya said.

Root nodded, a kindly expression on his face. "Likewise."

With that simple conclusion they proceeded to their respective commands, and Commander Root, as he walked towards his ship, experienced an unsettling moment of déjà vu . A hundred years ago he had approached a group of loaded shuttles just like this one, on a mission against the same enemy. No more than a fifth of the officers had survived that time. He told himself that this time would be different, but deep down inside, beyond the ironlike certitude of his character, there remained a sliver of doubt that history would repeat itself letter for letter. It did not show on his face or in his words, nor did it even affect his mind. It was buried, but there nonetheless.

He walked past the first line of ships, trailing smoke and exuding an air of command. He looked up at one of the shuttles in time to see Captain Trouble Kelp boarding with his retrieval team, and locked eyes with him. Trouble had been given command over several of the assault teams, and it was an appointment that Root had not made lightly; he knew he could count on Trouble at a time like this.

"I will see you topside, sir," the elf said as he hung out of the shuttle's hatch.

Root nodded, but kept on walking. He was conflicted by seeing Trouble up there, in the same position his past comrades were before their deaths. Was it Trouble's young features, his confidence, his evident determination, that made Root think of the ones he had lost before? A new generation of officers was going the same path of their predecessors, Trouble among them, and Root still felt the shame biting at him from the last time. He had led so many to their deaths, he could not do so again, not without losing another part of himself. And yet here they were, departing on a mission that may very well take their lives. It made Root bite his cigar hard and nearly cut it in half. No, he could not think about this, not at present. A mind rife with worry could not command an army in battle; only a clear, determined, and strategic mind. Maybe when it was all over he could think about it, and by then, he would have reason to do so. For now he would ignore all of these internal feelings and see with eyes unclouded. By the time he reached his ship, this internal struggle was over, all of the uncertainty and fear gone away; his heart hardened, along with his mind.

Once inside his ship, he took a seat right behind the two pilots, who were both hard at work doing final system checks. The rest of the ship was packed with officers, and all of them were silent, some checking their gear and weapons while others just stared ahead, mentally preparing themselves. Root looked over them, imparting as much reassurance as he could, and then looked forward through the cockpit window, which gave an impressive view of the looming magma chute.

"All ships are loaded and waiting on standby," the pilot said, looking over his shoulder.

Root nodded. "Very well. Let's go."

In a tumult of hot wind and deafening noise, thirty ships took to the air and flew out into the great expanse of the magma chute, leaving their world of certainty and safety behind, entering a realm in which nothing and no one was assured a continuance of life. Off they went, nearly two-hundred strong, unto the necessary practice of war against those who had once been their own.


	16. Storm

**Laconus Headquarters, Island of Taillte**

Midnight had faded to early morning, darkness giving way to darkness, thus setting forth the beginning of a new day even while the night still reigned with its shadows and its silence. The island loomed in its watery realm, surrounded by a ring of endless sea and watched high above by a starlit sky; the moon, above it all in its power, cast silvery rays upon the forgotten land, offsetting the blackness that had made it nearly indistinguishable from the undulating expanse of the ocean. The fires and chaos from before had long since disappeared, their tumult replaced by a rare stillness that even the rebellious forces of nature seemed to abide by. There was no wind in the humid air, not nearly a slight breeze, and the sea was profoundly calm, its gentle waves barely whispering as they rolled upon the sand and rock of the shore. With the elements at bay, and the whole world caught in the moonlit noiselessness of the night, one could sense the otherwise imperceptible veil of anticipation and dread that hung in the air; a feeling like no other. Not even the creatures of the night stirred during this ominous witching hour, seemingly aware of that formless presence in the air, and content to remain hidden in the obscuring depths of the tropical forest. The whole island, even the towering hills and the voiceless trees, seemed to be waiting for something that was still on the horizon. Like a calm before a storm, this transient tranquility took hold.

There seemed to be no life on the island, as from a distance even the moonlit parts seemed to meld together. But around the largest mountain, the one that Laconus occupied, there were little flickers or motion, small and seemingly insignificant signs of existence amidst the shadows. One of them, halfway up the massive hill, shifted slightly, its presence no more than shade alongside the motionless accoutrements of the night. A few rays of moonlight caught it on the top, revealing a stoic expression and the glint of a weapon's barrel. Other shadows, much similar, seemed to be everywhere.

" _All units, be advised. Command reports thirty vessels inbound. ETA twenty minutes…"_

Captain Vepar Cailleach heard the voice in his ear, but did not react apart from looking further into the distance, where the sea met the starry firmament. Nothing needed to be done by him or any others, as all had been taken care of in advance. Preparation was key to any battle, and Laconus—the most feared and infamous paramilitary faction in the history of the People—were masters at it. Vepar stood halfway up the mountain, on a hidden platform that was concealed behind brush and sensor-scattering mesh. To his right loomed a large laser cannon, an automated eight-barreled anti-aircraft variant, and to his left were several of his officers, each bearing long range neutrino rifles and night-vision gear. Many others were concentrated around the mountain, organized and placed into strategic positions. Weapon placements stood vigilant in the gloom, missile launchers and cannons pointing to the sky, the moonlight reflecting off of their metal surfaces. Elongated shadows denoted the presence of other officers who, like ghosts, remained still before the sleeping world, fixtures of the otherworldly air that had taken over. And above it all, hovering in the air like watchful specters, were the dark forms of Laconus gunships, a total of twenty-four of them spread out in groups of four. Their exhaust ports glowed readily, and their armaments were fully loaded and primed. These ships, along with the two hundred and eighty-seven personnel in and around the facility, waited in silence.

Vepar breathed calmly as he waited alongside all the others, neither fear nor uncertainty assailing his mind. A hundred years ago he had faced the entire LEP with a firm countenance and not a shred of fear, and he would do so again a million times if his mission necessitated it. As he stood overlooking the island, with his rifle handy and his helmet on a parapet before him, he looked up to see some of the ships hovering above him. A slight, perturbed frown appeared on his scarred face. They had lost quite a few of their ships thanks to the lone LEP officer who had waged a personal war against them; at a time like this, air superiority was essential, and that called for every ship they could muster. Still, there was nothing they could do to regain those losses now. They would have to make do, and they would. Absentmindedly tapping his fingers against his rifle, he returned his gaze to the dark expanse of ocean, cast in thoughts that were soon interrupted by the beeping of his communicator. The Major spoke calmly on the other end.

" _Captain, I trust that the officers under your command are prepared to welcome our esteemed guests?"_

"Perfectly," Vepar replied. "The defense grid is operational, and all units are at their stations."

Further up the mountain, looking out of the large window that dominated the far wall of his office, Major Belenos Æthelryth nodded with a stoic expression. He put his communicator aside, and remained standing before the view of the island and the overarching night, his emerald eyes filled with calculation and hardness of mind. Far in the distance, miles and miles out into the Pacific, was his old friend and counterpart Julius Root, charging forth with the intention of bringing him down for good. Belenos could only smile a little at that thought, not because it amused him, but because there was still a certain degree of warmth he felt towards his old mentor. Even though they were enemies, and though they were inclined to kill each other, he still appreciated the past they had shared, and the rivalry they had championed. Sometimes, your greatest friends became your most powerful enemies.

Belenos' mind shifted to the coming storm, to the recommencement of the century old war, and hence to the island he was to protect and the mission that was the ultimate prize. He looked now upon his men who, though he could not see them, he still perceived in his mind's eye. Everyone was waiting, and they were loyal, so loyal to their cause and to each other; dedicated to Laconus' mission, to the People's future, and to the very blood that flowed through their veins. It made him proud, and it was with that sense of pride burning within his heart that he activated his communicator once again. His voice, as it flowed through the gloom, reached all those who waited in stillness, transmitted to every officer on the island.

"My comrades in arms, my dear friends, my brothers…"

The beginning of his address grabbed the attention of all who heard. From the pilots in the ships and the soldiers on the ground to the officers staffing the command center, all were listening to their commander, his voice pulling on the iron cords of loyalty and love alike. Belenos waited a few seconds to continue, his eyes ever upon the gloom before him. He spoke strongly, and with a subtle intimacy that bespoke the heartfelt truth of his words.

"The time has come for me to issue my final order as your commander-in-chief; our journey has reached its end. For one hundred years we have ventured through the darkness that has been our exile, and for one hundred years you have put your trust in me to lead you to the glory you so rightfully deserve. I have done my very best, and I hope all of it was to your expectation. I have given all of myself—my body, my mind, my very soul—to the cause we share, and I am prepared to do so one final time."

"Before us lays the treasure we have sought, the greatest possession of all—the People's inheritance. This world, and all that is in it, was stolen from us long ago, brutally taken and drenched in blood. It has been polluted, overpopulated, depleted, and utterly desecrated by our inferiors. I say no more. Our people have shed enough tears, and their fear has been unjust. They deserve better, and we shall ensure that it happens. Humanity's time is over. They have enjoyed their reign for as long as we can tolerate, and have done nothing of merit with all that they have taken from us. Destruction is all they have sowed, and this shattered world is what they have reaped. Let us rid this earth of their pestilence. Let us cleanse it in the fire of our vengeance." He looked to the horizon, which was bathed in darkness. "When the sun rises this morn, it will rise upon a new world, giving light to lands that were once ours and shall be once again. The humans, in their ignorance and folly, will fall, their empires will crumble, and their ruins will join the bones of the old world we left behind."

As Belenos spoke his face slowly changed, its expression growing stronger and more determined with each word he spoke. His inner convictions, the fire of his heart, was pouring forth into his countenance. "All my life this has been my vision, just as it has been yours. We share that dream. However…" A slight narrowing of his eyes was the only indicator of his anger. "There are those among the People who would still have us hide from humanity, and further still, protect them and prolong their victory over us. These fairies are our brothers, our sisters, our blood, but they have chosen their side in history, and are our enemies. Their ignorance has fooled them into believing a false idea; they think that mercy and forgiveness will save this world, even while the humans throw it in our faces each and every day. At this very moment they approach us, hundreds strong, led by the same commanders that sought to destroy us in the past. They are determined to bring an end to our journey, to finish what was started. That cannot be allowed to transpire. They have made their decision, as have we. This is war, my comrades, and it is a war we shall win."

In the distance, just over the horizon, there was a brief flash of lightning; from the storm that had passed. Belenos caught it, and thought of how much stronger the storm of battle would be. He spoke even as his emerald eyes gazed upon that distant flicker and the premonitions it kindled.

"And so, this is my order to you, my beloved soldiers. Protect this island, protect our mission, and thereby protect the very future of our kind. No one else will, not even our own kin. The ultimate responsibility has fallen to us, and we shall not fail; even if we fall this day, may our sacrifice be the harbinger of a new age. This world, and the future, will be ours once again." A slight smile then came to his face. "You have all served the People with exemplary character. You have worked tirelessly and with a true purpose, and now, these decades of effort shall bear their fruit. You have my thanks, all of you, for the work you have done. It has been an honor serving with each and every one of you. I now ask all of you, not as your commander, but as your brother in this ancient struggle, to stand with me one last time. What say you?"

Around the island, the officers listening responded with passionate hurrahs. These confirmations flooded in, overwhelming in their volume, and no sooner than ten seconds later every one of his officers had responded in some way. It made him smile genuinely, and gaze upon the darkness with favor.

"Thank you. May the gods watch over you all. As you were."

Belenos lowered his communicator once again, this time stuffing it absentmindedly into a slot on his tactical vest. He had said what he wanted to say, even though words could not adequately impart the thoughts and the feelings within him. And even though he was finished, he remained where he was. He stood looking over the moonlit realm that had been his refuge for so long, his hands behind his back and his face set in a look of thoughtful observation, seeing beyond the darkness and the moonlight to the place he had arrived at so many years ago—his refuge, his hope, his dream. He thought of the officers under his command and all that he, despite being so fallen, had to lose. He saw it all, all that he was inclined to love, to cling to, and then he let it go. With a slow exhalation and a softening of his countenance, he accepted what was to be. Then, with one final look upon the moonlit night, he turned around and set his mind entirely on what he had to do.

The overhead lightning of his office accentuated the lines on his face as he walked across the room. On his large desk waited his laser rifle, fully customized and deadly, and before he took it he gave himself a cursory glance. He had donned his old officer's uniform once again, the same one he had worn so long ago, and though it was underneath his tactical vest and other gear, it was still obvious to see. With great care he adjusted the golden acorns of his rank insignia, which still gleamed after all those years, and when everything was in perfect order he stood tall and squared his shoulders; he wore it all with pride, the fire in his heart ever kindled by their timeless reminder of his duty to the People.

Without any further adjustments he carried on, grabbing his rifle and fastening it to the one-point sling that allowed it to hang readily across his chest. When he reached the door he stopped again, this time to carry through with an old habit of his. He reached for his second-last cigar and lit it with his old gold-plated lighter, and after inhaling its noxious fumes—and savoring them as he always did—he took the irreversible step forward, out the door and into the empty corridor beyond. A trail of smoke lingered in his wake, and even when he was long gone, it hung in the air, the last vestige of his presence, perhaps even the final sign that he ever existed at all.

 **Southeast of Ahurei, South Pacific**

The moonlit ocean sparkled beneath the stars, its undulations marked by the reflection of the firmament and all of its celestial fittings. There was a serenity in the seemingly endless expanse of the ocean, and with it calmed after the heavy storm, it took on a dreamlike state; peaceful seas like this were both a blessing and a curse for those who once sailed them with canvas and rudder. This peace seemed to dominate, but there was always a fresh reminder of the entropy of existence, and here there came a roar of noise and a blast of wind as a force of shadows flew over the water at supersonic speed.

The LEP taskforce flew low over the waves, casting spray into the air which, when touched by the silver rays of moonlight, gave the appearance of them flying amidst a whirlwind of little stars. The thirty vessels flew in perfect formation, the interceptors all around and the bulkier transports clustered to the middle and rear. In the lead transport, which so happened to be as heavily armed as the fighters that flew ahead of it, Commander Julius Root gazed forwards into the night. Seated just behind the pilot and copilot, the grizzled elf could see everything through the window, and his brown eyes, despite their hardness, betrayed a sliver of something other than military stoicism. Whatever it was, no one could tell; not even he knew what he was feeling, for it was one of those odd, surreal moments in life that could not be explained. His ruminations were cut short by his own mind as this feeling rose, and he cast it aside a second later, focusing on his duty and the trial that loomed before him.

Root was dressed in full combat garb, laden with the best LEP tech and sporting the very best weaponry a fairy could ask for. Only his helmet, tucked under his seat, remained off. To his back was a full compartment of retrieval operators, all officers of the highest degree, and they too bore the tools of the trade they so necessarily found themselves in. No one spoke, not even a whisper to break the constant drone of flight. Everyone was focused on their own little preparations before the engagement. Many checked their gear for the umpteenth time, while others simply gazed into nothingness in silent mental preparation. Root did neither. He could not have any respite, especially not now. He kept his eyes on the darkness ahead and his ears pricked for the word from the pilot.

"Target area is dead ahead," the pilot said over his shoulder. "ETA, five minutes."

Root nodded, and spoke into his communicator.

"All units, final report."

The other ships in the force all reported in to him, including Commander Vinyáya, who was in charge of coordinating the fighter craft. In seconds everyone had confirmed their readiness, and Root nodded, having never expected anything but perfection. Now he looked over his shoulder, to his officers, and spoke gruffly.

"Prep for drop. We're going in hot."

The twenty officers in the space behind him stood up in orderly haste. From under their seats they retrieved their compact wing units, and with expert efficiency they put them on and powered them up. Weapons were primed and helmets were donned, and before the last two minutes were upon them all of the officers were ready to jump out into whatever world awaited them in the darkness beyond. Root watched this with silent approval and then nodded to the copilot, who pressed several buttons. The ship slowed down, as did all the others, and then both sides of its rear compartment retracted, revealing the glittering sea and the melded shadows. Wind and noise assaulted everyone, but all wore helmets at this point and held on to metal rungs on the ceiling. Being able to deploy fast was far more important than comfort.

"One minute!" Root yelled, indicating with his hand. "You all know what to do! Let's give them hell!" Once more he looked forward, his mind on the mission. It was all planned out, all carefully thought of down to the finest details. Even in a rush, they had contrived an effective strategy, and it had to work—otherwise, they would fail, and all may be lost. "You still with us, Foaly?" he said into his headset. The centaur's voice, bereft of any vexatious attitude, responded instantly.

" _I wouldn't miss this for the world. I'm right with you, metaphorically at least. Everything is ready on my end."_

"Once you're in..."

" _I know..."_

Root nodded, ever looking forward. Only thirty seconds remained before contact, and then everything would be thrown into chaos. It was nerve-racking, these last few seconds, but no one was plagued by fear anymore. Fear was there, but in healthy amounts; determination was far stronger, as was the courage of each officer's heart.

"We're beginning to receive distortions," the copilot said aloud. "Entering the buffer zone now. Activating ECCM."

The darkness before them suddenly changed, becoming twisted and filled with unreal shadows and flashes of light. This was the influence of the island's defense mechanism, and it was far more superficial than the intense electronic countermeasures that assaulted the ships' equipment. It was Foaly, by proxy, who held these at bay, allowing for sensors and essential systems to remain online. With the otherworldly view all around them, the ships powered onward, into the distorted blackness of the night and towards the very guns of the enemy. Root knew this; he could feel the ever lessening distance between him and a deluge of fire. It was obvious what was about to happen, but that was why they had prepared so strenuously. Even though they were charging head-on into the fray, they were not going to do so blindly.

"Ten seconds!" the copilot yelled.

Root steeled himself. His eyes narrowed, his face contorted into a look of crimson fury, and as one of his hands held tightly to the metal rung above, his other rested on his communicator. Timing was going to be everything.

 _Five…Four..._ He waited the last few seconds, and then spoke loudly. "All ships, deploy countermeasures!"

Before they were even through the chaos of the distortion field, all of the ships sent forth a wave of projectiles, which shot out in an even spread across the entire field of view. At the same time the final distance was crossed, and the distortion field fell away, bringing the sight of the moonlight night once more. The island, Laconus' fortress, loomed directly ahead, its mountains towering before them like giants. Root set his eyes on it, and at the very same moment saw the enemy. All of Belenos' forces were waiting, and as one they opened fire, filling the night with flashes of fire and energy. Missiles and cannon rounds blazed through the darkness, hundreds in number and soon to be thousands. At that precise moment, as the fusillade of death careened towards the LEP ships, the munitions they had fired early detonated between the formation and the enemy barrage. A wall of flashes erupted in the night, followed by smoke and pulsating energy; a defensive burst of a myriad of physical and electronic countermeasures. It inundated the enemy missiles with false signals, threw off the aim of the enemy guns, and blinded their optics temporarily. This obliterated the strength of the enemy attack, and gave the LEP a chance to get in close and personal with a foe that would otherwise tear them apart. The ships broke formation, and engaged the enemy.

Commander Root held on tight as his ship went in low over the sandy beach. Half of the officers behind him had jumped, while the rest waited eagerly. Another command sent a bomb-like device plunging into the sand below, and when it struck it dug itself in and deployed a series of antennas. This was Foaly's backdoor into the party, an anchor with which he could gain access and circumvent the island's countermeasures, and he only took a second to speak triumphantly to his commander.

 _"Alrighty, I'm in..."_

"Excellent," Root growled, his brown eyes reflecting the crimson glare of passing laser shots. He was now flying over the tropical forest, dodging cannon fire and proceeding into the heart of the enemy's territory. All around him, just as fate had promised, began the largest battle the People had fought in a hundred years, a storm of the likes he had only seen once before. He held on tight as he watched this calamity unfold, bearing witness with his very eyes the cyclical nature of history. Once again it repeated, madness incarnate. Fairy against fairy, brother against brother.


	17. Alive

A vast expanse of blackened water stretched in all directions, where a thick haze hung in the air and denied any view of the horizon or whatever lay before it. The surface of the water was like glass, motionless and bereft of even a glimmer of life, and in the gloom there was no light to dance upon its perfect veneer, nor a breeze to give birth to gentle undulations. Only stale, rank air filled that place, and the sky was nothing but twisted folds of grey and black, all static as if the firmament was nothing more than a dome decorated with paint. Holly found herself standing amidst this otherworldly place, her feet touching the water and yet, despite the absence of land, not sinking beneath the surface. She looked down and saw no reflection, but beyond into a depthless realm that was full of nearly imperceptible shadows. A cold presence hung in the rank air, and the silence—so complete and so deathly—made her heart sound as it pounded in her chest. This was realm that had neither living nor dead; a twilight between the two worlds of existence, a half-step between life and death.

Holly did not know what this place was, but she did not wonder aloud. Instead she looked around, intent on finding a way out. Her mind was focused on other things, on her mission and her very survival, but in this place everything seemed inconsistent, illogical, and wrong. She gazed once more upon the water, tried to take a step forward, and then heard a faint voice whisper from below—words passing from the water as if they were spoken in her ear.

" _Why didn't you stop it?"_

Her step landed her on paradoxically solid water, and downwards she looked, into the blackness, to see a pale face looking up at her. It was a familiar face, one she had seen not too long ago; the face of a boy, the one whom she had tried to communicate with in the holding cell in Belenos' facility. He stared up at her with a lifeless gaze, but in his cold eyes there was a burning hatred, a ghostly condemnation, and with such malice tingeing his whispered words he spoke again.

" _Why didn't you stop it?"_

Holly stepped back, her brow furrowed and her hand instinctively at her waist, even though she had no weapon to draw; a false comfort found in motions alone. She was afraid of what she saw, and her heart increased its rhythm, each thump sounding in the gloom with impossible volume. "What are you talking about?" she asked through clenched teeth. "What do you want from me?"

The boy did not answer. Instead, he got closer, floating up from the depths with noiseless fluidity, as if his body was not even of physical matter but merely visual illusion. Holly stared at him, unable to move, and as she gazed into the dead eyes of that boy she had left behind she came to notice others behind him. Faces, in their thousands, began to come into view, their dead expressions and accusing stares locking on to her and pulling at the terror in her heart. More and more, tens of thousands, millions, came behind these, and all of them said the same words the boy had spoken, begging her to answer their question. She could not. All she could do was step back in desperation, even though there was nowhere she could go.

"Stay back!" she rasped, her eyes darting about madly. "I'm warning you!"

The shades didn't listen. They came at her with open fury, their hands reaching and their deathly eyes ever watchful. To the surface of the glassy expanse they came, and then one hand, the boy's, pierced through and grabbed Holly by her ankle. She screamed as she fell on her back, terror abounding in her heart, and when she fell she immediately began to fight as hard as she could, kicking in an attempt to free herself. The grip that held her fast was impossibly strong, but more than that, it was cold, numbing her body from the spot it touched. More joined it, all passing through the glassy water and reaching at her with ill intent. They wrapped around her struggling body, and before she knew it she was sinking. The residents of the underworld were forcibly dragging her back down with them, stealing her very soul and dooming it to share in their fate. The cold and the fear were overwhelming, and there was nothing she could do to save herself. All she could do was watch the dead eyes of the boy, and hear his lifeless voice ask her the fatal question she could not answer—over and over, each time just as haunting as the last. The surface and its silence was gone in an instant, replaced by the suffocating depths of the realm beneath, and she felt herself getting pulled in every direction by a million clinging hands, all of which instilled the same deathly chill. Pain and fear rose in waves, and her body, despite its desperate efforts, was torn apart limb from limb.

* * *

Holly's eyes shot open and stared as wide as saucers into the darkness before her, their awakening sudden and motivated by horror. Her voice yelled out with an involuntary scream at the same time, and her whole body trembled from fear and pain; mental and physical agony greeted her in life just as they had assaulted her in the terrors of her nightmare. Her heart was hammering in her chest, and a cold sweat covered her, getting in her eyes and making them tear up even more than they already were. Everything was blurred before her, by her tears, and though she rapidly blinked there was little improvement. It was dark, incredibly dark, and she felt as if she had been dropkicked up a troll—a common feeling during the last few days.

The sudden awakening and her physiological response to the nightmare made it hard for her to perceive the world around her, but as her awareness recovered the first thing she realized was that she was hanging upside down. The pressure in her head and the distinct swaying of her body made it evident, and this made her all the more fearful, for she did not yet know where she was. As her vision became less distorted by waning tears, she began to see the moonlit world around her, and the starry night sky looming above. She looked around frantically, not knowing if she would fall the next moment to her death, but soon calmed herself to take it all in; her self-control, which had temporarily slipped, was slowly clawing its way back to dominance within her mind.

Holly came to realize then that she was hanging above a sheer drop of more than a hundred feet. The rocky surface of the mountain descended until it reached the shadowy forest below, where certain death waited should she fall. Above and around was very little but rock and a few resilient trees. Holly stared at one of the latter, wide eyed and in awe, because her foot was caught between two of its branches. She was dangling by her left leg, and alive only because she had somehow been lucky enough to end up that way. She must have fallen from the ship when it crashed into the mountain, and rolled down the slope until she was saved by that lone tree. It was luck of the most extraordinary degree.

"D'arvit," she rasped, gritting her teeth against the pain she felt. Her whole body was covered in bruises and cuts. Her left angle was broken, and the leg was dislocated, both of which hurt like hell, and to make matters worse any movement of them would likely make her fall to her death. She was also aware of blood covering her face; a deep gash went all along her cheek and up to her left ear, the flesh hanging open and oozing blood. It was terrible, but it was not the time or the place to despair over her wounds. She had to survive, and even though she nearly overcome by shock and pain, she focused on the goal rather than the hardship it took to get there.

Hanging where she was, she felt the cool night air brush against her. It made her sway a little, and each time she moved back and forth she winced, both out of pain and fear. In the distance she could hear the sound of explosions and weapons fire, but she didn't think about it; her mind, so caught up in her crisis, refused to think of anything but getting out of her predicament. And she did, ever so carefully, throwing caution into the wind in a crazed effort to save herself. Using all of her strength she leaned upwards towards the branches she was struck on, reaching with both hands. The effort increased the strain on her ruined limb, and the pain exploded as a result, but she kept trying until she got a hold on the tree. Then, nearly passing out from the pain, she pried her limb from the catch and slowly pulled herself along the branch towards safety. When she reached the sloped mountainside that the tree grew from, she stopped and focused on her dislocated leg—she would not get anywhere with her leg hanging there like dead meat. "Come on, nice and easy…" she rasped as she got into a suitable position and pressed her leg against the rock. With a strong push and a sickening _pop_ , she shoved the limb back into place, and the resulting pain was horrendous. She tried to withstand the agony, and she almost lost to it, but by a hair's breadth she held on. With the excruciating work done, she lay back against the sloped rock and panted for breath, trying to collect herself. Into the night she stared, her pained expression glistening with moonlit sweat and blood.

"This…is…nothing…" she told herself, even as the pain threatened the make her vomit. "Nothing…"

It was something that she needed to believe. She needed to believe that she could make it, that even in her state she could survive. Despite all the fear, all the pain, and all the uncertainty, she needed to find within herself the strength and determination to carry on in hope. She did, ever so slowly, looking first to the ground far below and then upwards towards the summit of the mountain. It was not too far up, and it was a favorable slope unlike the fall below her. It was her only chance, and she had no choice but to take it.

Finding every last reserve of strength within herself, Holly began the treacherous climb. Using her hands and only her right leg, she slowly moved up the rocky slope, using natural grooves and rough irregularities in the stone to progress. Pain and exhaustion harassed her the whole time, but with her only alternative being a deadly fall into the forest below, she could not possibly give in; though her body was reaching its limit, her tenacious spirit refused to give up, pressing onward with astounding perseverance. More than once she was forced to pause, and even more times she lost her grip or footing and nearly fell, but no matter what she did not fail. The burning determination within her, and the distant sounds of warfare, drew her towards the summit of the hill.

The night was clear and the air was cool, but the tranquility was offset by the din, and as Holly climbed she began to see a faint crimson glow outlining the apex before her. The higher she went the louder the noise became and the more pronounced the fiery glare, and the scent of smoke began to creep its way to her, though with her face all bloodied she could not smell much apart from her own stench. She was glad she could not see her mutilated face at the moment, she did not need that sort of reminder. "Keep going…" she told herself again and again. Her arms and legs were trembling, and the violent beating of her heart reverberated in her head, seeming to shake her brain to pieces. She knew that her body was losing its fight against the toll it had taken. _Just a little more…please…just a little more...  
_

She put her hand over the edge of a small plateau and, after pausing for breath, threw in her last reserve of energy to pull herself over. She growled with determination as she did this, and continued to roar as she made progress. Then, after a sudden burst of motion, she found herself lying flat on her back upon the rocky outcropping, staring up at the stars. She panted for breath, her lungs feeling like they were on fire, and the aches and pains subdued her there for a long moment. Content to rest for just a little while, she continued to gaze upon the heavens. She thought back on everything that had happened, how she had ended up where she was, and realized something that would have been obvious to her had her mind not been so tired. And this realization, no matter how logical, filled her with adrenaline, determination, and dread. It made her look towards the summit of the mountain, which was now only a short walk up a slight slope. There the crimson glow waited, along with the sounds of its presence; so much dreadful truth held in mere colors and echoes. Holly stared at it for a moment, her hazel eyes wide as her thoughts put together what she was hearing. Then, with a surge of hidden strength, she struggled to her feet and limped towards it in a daze.

The air began to change even more as she ascended this final step, the scent of smoke and other things getting stronger and more diverse. The noise roared and echoed, the sound of missiles and lasers and jet engines all mixing together to form an ominous cacophony. Holly climbed to see the source of this hellish din, her right hand on her face to staunch the flow of blood from the deep wound. Her whole body was weak and shaking, but her resolve carried her, and took her all the way until she crested the rise and stood before the reality that she had feared. In the sunken twilight of that forgotten realm, she bore witness to a shadow-cast display of destruction. Fire and smoke, crimson amongst a million hews, glowed and flashed with a seemingly autonomous fury, basking the hillsides and leaving the sparse clouds above stained the same color. The whole expanse before her, encompassing half of the island, was awash with chaos. Laser fire streamed into the air from dozens of locations, and missiles flashed brightly as they launched and exploded against their targets. Shadows flew through the night, once and a while spitting the telltale blue of LEP laser cannons or the devilish crimson of Laconus' heavy guns. On the ground there was the sporadic lightshow of small arms fire, with each flash illuminating the shadows of those who were firing. All of this was concentrated around the largest mountain, the one that Laconus resided in, and Holly stood no more than a few hundred meters from it. She stared, enraptured by the horror and the excitement that came with the view. Meanwhile her dazed mind worked it all out.

The battle before her was between the LEP and Laconus, that was for certain. Root and Vinyáya had managed to find them, and Holly knew why. She realized this with a mixture of contentment and dread, for by her actions she had revealed Laconus and thus set into motion events that would very well get many people killed. But what was the alternative? What else could stop Belenos before he committed genocide on a global scale? In this terrible struggle, it seemed that every road was at least damp with blood, whereas some were submerged in it. There was no clean way out of this treacherous journey, no merciful end.

Holly stood still for a long moment, awed by what she saw, and when her rational mind took over again she was left with nothing to do. She had no communicator, no weapons, and her body was broken and exhausted. Yet in spite of her disadvantages, she still wanted to get involved; she could never stand by while her friends fought for their very lives, and she certainly would not stand by while she could be fighting against Belenos and his terrible ideals. Her eyes automatically locked upon the mountain in the distance—at the fierce combat raging around it, and the seemingly impenetrable defenses it had deployed—and the yearning got even stronger. She needed to make contact with Commander Root. The moment that thought came to her mind something close at hand caught her attention.

There was a blast of hot air, and a deluge of noise, as a massive shadow rose into view from below the mountain she stood on. It appeared right before her, ascending vertically up the sheer cliff that was only ten feet away from her, and though it had none of its forward lights on Holly could tell in the moonlight that it was an LEP ship. She covered her face with one hand as wind from its vertical thrusters hammered against her, and in her weakness she nearly stumbled. The side door of the transport opened, and at the same time the ship turned to the right, revealing the inner crew compartment and, most importantly, the grizzled elf hanging out of it.

"Captain Short!" Commander Root called out, his distinct voice audible even in the chaotic din.

Holly stared at him for a long moment, her daze not yet worn off. She was too weak to speak loudly, so instead she limped closer and nodded emphatically.

"Hang on, we'll get you out of there!" Root yelled. He turned and barked at the pilot, who then brought the shuttle in closer until it hovered just a foot over the wounded elf. At that moment her body chose to lose most of its desperate energy, suddenly leaving her in a wretched state of weakness; all she could do was reach up, while her legs threatened to give out. It was Root himself who took Holly's hand and pulled her up into the safety and familiarity of the transport, and when she was seated under the supervision of the ship's medical team, the old commander spoke with a subtle lining of relief in his voice. "I am glad you made it, Captain. It would seem that you were indeed following my orders."

Holly stared blankly ahead for a second, having lost much of her concentration due to the terrible state she was in. She did not notice the veiled warmth in Root's words, or the emotion that slightly affected his features. She simply nodded, and then winced as a medic touched her broken ankle.

"You have no idea how nuts Foaly is going right now," Root said as he listened to that same centaur through his earpiece. "His reaction to your situation finally proved to me that he cares for things other than his egotism and salary. Anyway, we're all relieved that we made it on time to bring you home in one piece. Greatly relieved..."

It was Holly's turn to speak, and with a darkened expression she looked up at her commander. "This is far from over. We both know that."

Julius nodded, but at the same time did not extend to her the chance she wanted. "Whatever you did earlier gave us an opening to isolate your location. Now we have Laconus on the defensive, and we will defeat them, even though it will take time. That is thanks to you, Holly. You have done an exemplary job, and nearly died who knows how many times. Let us do the rest."

"No…" Holly growled, sitting up now and ignoring the protest of the medics; her body trembled, as did her voice. "I will not sit this one out. You have not seen what Belenos is planning, you haven't witnessed the things he's done here..." She grimaced, remembering the bodies, the soulless humans, the genocidal plan, and the nightmares. "After all that I have seen, I cannot rest. Not until this is over."

"You're hardly in the right state to be leading the charge," Root replied coolly. "You are in no condition to engage in combat operations. You need to recover."

Holly glared at the medics beside her. "Then bloody well heal me already! Give me a damn shot!"

The medics complied almost immediately, not only because it was their job, or because Holly was indeed wounded, but because she was scarier than all the rings of hell when she was angry. As they pumped magic into her and rejuvenated her broken body, she looked back to her commander and spoke seriously.

"He's going to wipe out humanity, using a virus. He's going to commit genocide on a global scale for what he sees to be the benefit of the People."

This was not a surprise to Root, but he nonetheless frowned at the ominous news. "And you are certain of this?"

"I saw the lab with my own eyes," Holly replied, feeling sick to her stomach at the memory. "Test subjects, live ones, and bodies, thousands of them. Belenos also told me himself..." She paused as the medics finished healing her, testing her leg and rolling her shoulders before speaking more. "He made it clear that this was a sure-shot weapon, perfect in its design. He's had plenty of time to develop it, and he plans on using it as soon as he can…"

Root nodded without a word, visibly contemplating the matter.

"We must stop him!" Holly insisted, her emotional vigor making her impatient.

"We will," the elf replied gruffly. "Are you determined to throw yourself into the fray again, even though I am ordering you to sit this one out?"

Holly grabbed an extra recon helmet from the gear rack that lined the rear of the shuttle, and answered as she was checking its fit. "Regardless of what you say, I am going out there." She then reached into a compartment and retrieved three small capsules, each of which contained a potent fluid that acted as an energy supplement—LEP issued energy shots were very effective and had no adverse effects. She downed all three of them, and after tossing the empty bottles aside she turned to look her commander in the eye. "I need a weapon."

There was an odd expression on Root's face—he was either impressed or very perturbed—and his voice was steely as he spoke. "I could have you court-martialed for ignoring my orders, Captain. Have you no respect for the chain of command?"

Holly was rummaging through the ship, taking every weapon she could find in its miniature armory. "Right now, none. If you are going to stop me from fulfilling my duty, go ahead, just don't keep me waiting. I have work to do."

Root stood by idly as the captain grabbed a handful of concussor grenades and stuffed them in her vest pockets. "I would reprimand you if this mission wasn't unofficial. This whole plausible deniability thing makes it hard to pin blame on officers. After all, none of this is going to be in any official records…" He didn't show anything on his countenance, but what he was doing was implicitly giving her consent to do whatever she liked. It would seem that even he, despite his rigid sense of authority and tradition, did not care for protocol at the moment, and though he cared for Holly's life he could not deny her that which he himself wanted as well. It would only make him a hypocrite. And yet, despite this, he could not shake the feeling that if he let her go again, she would not come back. It was this sort of tough call that had greyed his hair long before its time. "You are going to go out there, despite what I have told you?"

"Without remorse, sir," she replied as she holstered several blasters and attached a pulse rifle to her one-point sling.

"So be it then…" Root said, a frown on his face—he had accepted the matter, and made his choice, which he knew he would have to live with for the rest of his life. The next moment his perturbed countenance was gone, replaced by one of stern focus. "Alright, we're going in." He walked to the front of the ship and spoke to his pilots, who promptly changed the ship's course and took it directly towards the center of the island, where the battle was raging. A few LEP attack craft went before them, and effectively drew the attention of a squadron of Laconus gunships before they could set their guns on the vulnerable shuttle. With laser fire filling the air, and one of the Laconus ships spiraling past the shuttle with fire exploding from its fuselage, Holly walked to the open side of the ship and gazed out with a hard expression. She now had a pair of wings on, and her eyes, despite the wind blowing at them, did not blink as they took in the situation on the ground. Root stood behind her, his gruff voice distinct in the chaos.

"I am obliged to ask again, are you sure of this?"

Holly nodded, the fires below reflecting in her hazel eyes. "I am. It will not be much longer anyway. It will be over by sunrise, one way or another it will end…"

"You sound very certain of that," Root remarked.

She stared out into the war zone as the wind blew against her newly-healed face; the blood was still dried on to it, and she didn't even notice. "I just know…"

There was an air of solemnity, coupled with an air of supreme urgency. The ship swooped in low over the forest, towards where a deluge of laser cannon fire was piercing into the night air in an attempt to strike down the LEP ships. The Commander now focused his attention on the inevitable, not on Holly's immovable decision. "Captain Kelp and Retrieval One have secured an LZ on the east side of the mountain. I will take you there and you can join up with his squad."

A wayward shot from a laser rifle collided with the wall a foot to Holly's right, and she merely glared a little. "With all due respect, Commander, I don't have time for that."

"Our forces have not taken over the gun placements in this region yet. It's too hot to land!"

Holly's face was contorted by a look of dreadful intent as she donned her helmet. "You won't have to land…."

Root then realized what Holly was thinking, but before he could state his protest she took a step forward and dropped out of sight, plunging from the safety of the ship into the madness of the battlefield. He could only stare and subsequently mutter to himself. "That elf is going to be the death of me…"

Now fifty meters below the fast-moving shuttle, Holly fell into the fray, gliding through the air with her wings still deactivated and her rifle aimed downwards. Below her was a plateau that was near the base of the mountain, where an auxiliary hangar bay was gaping open after taking several hits from LEP attack craft. Five gun platforms were concentrated around that point, and as they spat devastating streams of laser at the LEP ships above, Holly fell towards them as a shadow, undetectable with her wings dormant. Weapons fire flew past her by mere feet, and explosions shook the very air, but she was undeterred. In this conflict she kept finding more motivation to be strong, and with her body healed and three doses of artificial energy booster flowing through her, she felt temporarily as good as new. Her mind, despite the madness before her, was steady and consistent in its focus, which was to bring her foes down with extreme prejudice. "None of you are going to escape this," she growled as she fell through the night. "I will see to it…"

The fall lasted a few long seconds, and when she was nearing the plateau she quickly activated her wings and swooped down overtop of them, catching all of the Laconus soldiers there off guard; they had their eyes on Root's shuttle, which was high above, and not on the elf who had dropped from it. With her pulse rifle blazing, she strafed all five of the gun platforms, peppering the soldiers guarding them and striking down half of them before they could return fire. With shots screaming up at her, Holly dropped down and flew right towards one of the automated turrets, which was tracking Root's ship and firing steadily. In midair she detached herself from her wings, when she was mere feet away, and as the device tumbled into the turret she fell upon a trio of Laconus officers, who were aiming up at her and thinking that she would not dare to do something so reckless. The turret exploded beside her as the wings struck it, and amidst the hail of fragments and smoke she landed on one of the officers, using his body to break her fall. They went down in a heap, and the other two officers ducked for cover from the explosion. Holly stood up almost immediately, and shot the closest officer in the chest. When the second tried to take aim at her, she struck him with the butt of her rifle and then kneed him in the gut, bringing him down before she put in a few shots for good measure. From that point onward, she walked through a haze of smoke tinted by the red of fire, her rifle blazing and her foes dropping before her as she sought them out. In a minute she had cleared the area, all fifteen hostiles out cold. The turrets were still shooting, but not for long. With an almost casual demeanor she walked past each placement and left a grenade stuck to its side. Then, without even looking back, she set them off and blew it all to hell. Fire illuminated the gloom, and with that destruction announcing her presence on the battlefield, she carried on into the night.

The auxiliary hangar bay loomed before her, its massive door stuck partially open due to the damage it had sustained. Smoke and fire filled the air there, along with the flash of weapons fire, which colored the haze a multitude of transient shades. Several teams of LEP operatives were in the process of trying to gain entry, but there was fierce resistance, namely from an enemy gunship hovering inside the hangar. The Zephyr sprayed deadly streams of laser charges at the LEP officers' positions, forcing them to retreat, and a group of Laconus troops was pushing their advantage, advancing under this covering fire. Holly arrived at the scene through an obscuring veil of smoke, coming up behind the LEP officers at a sprint. She slid to a halt beside them, at the same time shooting one enemy who had tried to fire at them around the hangar opening. It was with but a quick glance that she assessed the situation and made a plan.

"Who's in charge here?" she yelled as she pressed herself against the cliff wall beside the hangar entrance. The enemy ship was firing at them almost constantly.

"Captain Arianrhod, Ma'am!" one of the officers replied. "He and the rest of the squad are flanking around the other side. We are to hold our positions and keep the enemy occupied."

"Well then, you did a good job at that," Holly growled, wincing as a heavy burst of laser fire tore past her. "Now for a change of plans. You do exactly as I say, am I making myself clear?" She had a sort of charisma about her, because none of the officers questioned her. Instead they listened and nodded in understanding. Truth be told, they had the easy part of the job, while Holly had the suicidal one, as usual.

The enemy was closing in on their position, eight Laconus officers just around the corner. The enemy gunship had ceased firing, given the proximity of its allies, and it was at this moment that Holly took action. Priming several concussor grenades, she tossed them around the corner into the hangar, where they rolled into the midst of the enemy soldiers. Timed as they were, they went off before they could take cover. The blast was horrendous, sending all of the enemy officers flying along with their weapons and loose gear. As this happened, Holly jumped out into the open, her pulse rifle slung over her back and a neutrino blaster in her hand. She ran as fast as she could, shooting the dazed and wounded officers as they tried to gather themselves, and when she was halfway to the other side of the opening—where an alcove granted cover—she saw what she had been hoping for. One of the enemy soldiers had been carrying a plasma cannon, and now it lay on the ground in her path. Using her free hand, she scooped it up without slowing down, and sprinted as fast as she could to the other end. The enemy gunship set its sights on her when she was almost safe, and it was through a deluge of laser fire that she threw herself that final distance. Sliding to a halt on the other side of the opening, she holstered her neutrino and brought the heavy plasma weapon to bear. A steady barrage of laser fire was keeping her pinned down, but that changed when she made a simple signal to her comrades on the other side. They immediately exposed themselves to the enemy ship and took a few pointless shots at it, drawing its attention despite their useless attacks. When the bombardment ended on her side and began on the other, Holly stood up and stepped out into the open, her weapon shouldered and primed. A single shot blasted out of the barrel of the plasma cannon, and despite her having never used such a weapon before, the shot lanced clean through the rear section of the gunship—exactly where she wanted it to.

An explosion followed, one that tore out part of the ship and sent it on a downward spiral towards the hangar floor. Holly dropped the plasma cannon where she stood and began to walk into the large chamber, her eyes on the ailing ship for only long enough to determine where it would crash. It slammed into the floor and skidded upright until it came to a screeching halt only a few meters to Holly's left. She walked right past the smoldering wreck without even a fleeting glance, her serious expression focused on what was ahead of her. The ship's side hatch opened, and the pilot emerged with his weapon aimed. As cold as ever, Holly nonchalantly drew her neutrino and fired a shot without even looking, striking the pilot in the face and knocking him out cold; she didn't even break her stride in doing this. Seemingly unstoppable, she continued into the hangar. The LEP officers took at least a minute to realize that she had cleared the whole area by herself, and by then she was already near the doorway at the end of the room. They hurried after her despite the confusion that filled their heads. One thing was for certain: Captain Short was a serious piece of work.

 **Command Center, Laconus Headquarters**

The command center for the island facility was awash with activity, the sound of units communicating and the distinct background noise of combat a near constant ambiance that added to the sheer urgency of the situation. All of the screens were focused on the battle, and every officer was doing everything they could to coordinate the defense system and facilitate proper communication between each unit. Explosions, muffled and ominous, shook the room regularly, and along with them came a stream of casualty reports that never seemed to end. The battle was fierce, and the LEP, despite being under heavy fire and taking wounded of their own, were making surprising progress.

"Air defense batteries eight through twelve have been destroyed," one of the officers growled. "LEP forces are amassing on the east side of the mountain. Our remaining ships are unable to engage."

Major Belenos Æthelryth stood amidst the organized chaos, his hands behind his back and his face set in a constant look of calculative thought. "Consolidate our forces there. Dig in and keep them suppressed. We do not need to push them back into the ocean; we only need to stall them." He looked upon the screens before him, tracking his forces' progress and constantly changing his strategy to cope with the rising demands of the battle. He was not surprised to see that the LEP, under Commanders Root and Vinyáya, were making serious headway. After all, they were the best of the best, and they were as determined as the officers under his command. Nonetheless, it perturbed him that his army was being pushed back ever so slowly; no commander enjoyed seeing the ebbing flow of his own power and the building momentum of another's. Still, it was inevitable. Their victory was not to be in the clash of arms, but the bringing of a new age, and that goal had yet to be impeded. Even now, as he oversaw the battle, his trusted comrades were preparing V-631 for distribution, and thus hastening the downfall of humanity. Everything was going according to schedule. _Through this fire I will stretch my hand, and even as it burns my flesh and rends my spirit, I shall take what is mine. Nothing can be gained now but through fire…_

His emerald eyes were the very image of confidence. He could not let incertitude change him; he had to be fully certain about everything, lest indecision and error step in his path. Another explosion shook the room, this one originating from below. An alert sounded, and one of the technical officers spoke in alarm.

"Sir, auxiliary hangar three has been overrun. LEP forces are entering unchecked!"

Belenos saw it on one of the screens, but he did not look troubled. "Lock that level down. Seal all doors and ensure that their progress is limited."

"They're hacking the doors, sir," the officer growled. "Someone is breaching our systems there. Nothing serious, but localized failures have been detected."

"That must be Root's pompous quadruped genius," Belenos said flatly. "He seems to have quite an assortment of monsters at his command…" He paused, his eyes catching something familiar on one of the surveillance feeds. He saw a lone elf ahead of the LEP forces, and though she was concealed by a helmet she still wore the stolen Laconus tactical gear from before. It made him speak coldly. "Speaking of monsters, there's one right now. Our esteemed _Captain_ …"

Several of the officers in the room looked up at him, surprise etched across their faces. "She's still alive?" one of them asked incredulously.

Belenos didn't know whether to smile or frown, and his expression showed that in its indecisive undulations. "Very alive…" He kept his eyes on the screen, watching as Holly progressed through the corridors below him. She seemed unstoppable, and the way she pressed forward against impossible odds made evident the unbroken fire in her heart. There was a certain degree of beauty in the perfect determination that guided her actions, a wondrous grace to her warlike character; like Coral, like so many heroes of the past, she was a symbol of courage and selflessness, the very image of an exemplary being, and it did not fail to impress Belenos. Despite how cold he was, despite the darkness within him, he found himself nodding with approval as she tore through his facility. A hundred years ago, Coral had been the one foe he could never truly bring himself to hate, the only individual to triumph over the perfidy and malice of their war. Now, once again, he had an enemy who elicited admiration and respect more than fear or anger. Holly was a perfect foe, a fated champion of his opponents, and he was truly honored to see her once again, and even a little relieved to see her still alive. These emotions churned within him, but in his mind he was still cold and focused; he could ignore all of these useless feelings, and he did. Despite how he felt, he could still give the orders that he knew were necessary. This life had made him into a paradox, he knew that all too well. With a cold expression he took out his communicator and spoke into it.

"Captain, what is your status?"

Vepar Cailleach replied after a moment of distinct gunfire. _"Sir, we are currently holding our position in sector eight. LEP forces here have been pushed back and are regrouping."_

"Good work, have Lieutenant Efenmid oversee the defense of that area, I need you and your squad elsewhere."

" _Of course sir."_

Belenos looked again at the screen, which now showed Holly and a group of officers advancing professionally through the facility's lower levels. "Take as many officers as you can spare and proceed to level sixteen. LEP forces have breached the hangar and are making their way to the central lift system. Cut off their advance."

" _It will be done,"_ Vepar replied firmly. _"I will take a few of our auxiliaries in addition to my squad. We will be onsite in five minutes."_

"Be careful, Vepar," Belenos cautioned, his voice darkening along with his expression. "Captain Short is leading them."

There was a moment of silence as Vepar undoubtedly processed the news; only the distant sound of combat could be heard. Then, with animosity slightly marring his stoic voice, he growled. _"I knew she was alive…"_

"Then here's your chance to finish it," the Major stated. "Do not waste any time. Kill her along with everyone else."

Yet another pause gave room for Vepar to further change in countenance. His smile, wicked and full, could be heard in his voice. _"With pleasure."_

Belenos put down his communicator and once more looked upon the battlemap, tracking with his eyes the progress of Holly and those with her. Once more he was throwing his very best at her, and once more he knew that she would perform at her absolute best as well. There was no way of telling what would happen, but it did not matter in the end; even if she defeated Vepar, it would suffice to slow her down, and that was what mattered. Time, not bodies, was the measure of his success. After ensuring that all of his remaining forces were optimally allocated, he activated his communicator again she spoke with a more personal tone.

"Aoife, status report."

The female elf replied after a minute—she was clearly in the middle of something. _"I am almost finished the tertiary programming. It will be ready according to schedule."_

"And the delivery system?"

" _Ready and waiting. The silo has taken no damage as of yet."_

"Excellent, Aoife, as always," Belenos replied with a genuine smile. "I will leave you to it. You have all my faith."

" _As do you have mine."_

Belenos smiled again as he put down his communicator, his face showing through to one of the few glimmers of goodness left within his heart. There were so few he could put such faith in anymore, but she was among that number; a gemstone to light his dreary world. If only that could last forever, but as with all good things, there was an end. Standing amidst the rumbles of battle, with that honest smile on his face, he could not help but feel regret for what was and could have been. His path was the only one he knew, but there were others still, in their potentiality, that glimmered in the gloomy expanse of his life. It was too late for them. It was too late for a lot of things. These thoughts he smoothly let subside, like tidewater slowly pulling out to sea, and then focused his mind on what could still be done, upon the only thing he still had control over—this last straw he held, this final instrument of change.


	18. Breakthrough

**Island of Taillte, South Pacific**

While fierce battles raged on the ground, illuminating the mountainside and the dark forests with flashes of weapons fire, the sky above bore witness to its own chaotic struggle of life and death. LEP and Laconus forces clashed in the gloomy firmament, the glow of their ships' engines and the flash of their armaments standing apart from the multitude of glittering stars. One could look up and see the moon regularly marred by the transient presence of a ship going by, followed by another following close behind with killing intent. Explosions and fire blossomed in the night, and smoldering wreckage plunged from there into the forests below, where destruction continued to mount. What was once a tropical paradise was now littered with the refuse of war.

The LEP air force was tasked with eliminating Laconus' air power and establishing air superiority, thereby gaining a decisive advantage. The two fleets were almost equally matched, and with the assistance of the island's ground defenses, Laconus had a slight advantage overall. But however outgunned Vinyáya and her pilots were, they did not falter. They flew into the fray, courageous and skillful in their deadly aerial struggle, and did everything they could to bring their enemy down. After the first twenty minutes of combat, Laconus had lost ten of its twenty-four ships. The LEP, originally with twenty-one fighters, had lost eleven. With only half their number left, they were forced to close up and engage more prudently, though one pilot among them did not change at all, but rather became all the more ferocious. The firing of her ship's multi-barreled laser cannons flashed before her, lighting up her golden eyes with each transient pulse, and the subsequent fireball from the enemy ship she struck bathed everything in crimson. Veering off and avoiding the crashing wreckage, Commander Raine Vinyáya expertly shifted her attention to the next target.

The mountainside was still laden with enemy gun positions, but she put in as many dents as she could. Flying low over a burning patch of forest, she closed in on the nearest grouping of automated guns and then flew up into their line of sight at the last second. All of them turned and blazed at her, but she rolled to the side and responded by launching several EMP bombs from her ship's wings. With a fierce expression she pulled up, avoiding the enemy fire and the following electromagnetic pulse, which utterly fried the turrets' systems. At her speed she was soon hundreds of meters above the island, and when she rolled over and plunged down towards it, she took in the whole view of violence.

This was what she hated more than anything. She despised war in all of its forms, especially war between kin. It made her sick, and there was the irony, because it was her job to fight wars and win them. Long ago she had joined the LEP with the intention of saving lives and stopping conflicts, but she had found out that it was the same thing in too many cases; to truly put an end to darkness, one must fight it. Sometimes only the sword could quell the sword, and as it has always been, violence begets violence, war begets war. All she could do was fight with the intention of saving her own and reducing the casualties on the other side; she could only fight with her heart and its true purpose, and not with her anger and primal fear. Self-control, and morality, still had a place even on this battlefield.

Once more she descended into the battle, her eyes on the enemy ships that her HUD designated with symbols.

"Thirteen bandits left," she stated coolly as she locked on to another Zephyr. She fired a short laser burst, sheering the right wing off of the enemy ship. "Make that twelve…" Another cluster of enemy gun placements began to fire on her, and again she knocked them out with EMP munitions.

" _Nice shot!"_ one of her pilots, a certifiably crazy pixie corporal, said over the communications link.

"Thank you," she replied, a slight smile on her face. She was glad that none of her pilots were dead, though the fear of it still waited in the back of her mind. Some were severely wounded by the fighting, but all of them either successfully crash landed or ejected from their ships, thereby saving their lives. A ship could easily be replaced, a good pilot could not. That was the logical military doctrine, and Vinyáya believed it just as well as anyone else. However, she never viewed her pilots as mere resources that were costly investments; she dared not objectify anyone even though it was an army's job to expend its blood as a chess player may expend pawns. She valued life, plain and simple, and she always seemed to have a maternal affection for the officers under her command—though, like Root, she did not show it. These thoughts flew from her mind as she flew over the largest mountain, dodging a steam of enemy fire and deploying flares to throw off several incoming missiles. Two of her colleagues flew up alongside her as she stabilized, and for a moment they communicated to coordinate further action. However, in the middle of their tête-à-tête, they were forced to break formation. A fusillade of laser shots burst from below while they were together, cutting vertically through the wing of one of the LEP ships and sending it spiraling down towards the gloomy jungle. Raine veered sharply out of the way, avoiding getting rammed by her damaged ally, and not a second later a dark shape blurred past her, flying straight up while deploying flares. It quickly came around, plunging down towards the LEP ships, and despite the warning they had this time another one of Vinyáya's colleagues was shot down. She could only deploy countermeasures and evade during this chaos, even though she had every inclination to help her comrades. She flew low over the jungle, then between the mountains, before coming about. A voice spoke in her ear as she flew into the open again.

" _Commander, you've got one close on your tail!"_

"I see him…" Raine said calmly, her face a mask of determination despite how uncertain dogfighting could be. A Zephyr was just behind her, keeping within range and refusing to let her maneuvers shake him off—it was the same one as before. _And this must be their wing commander…_ Vinyáya, sensing a challenge, gave the enemy everything she had.

Diving until she was nearly skimming the treetops, Raine took the pursuing ship on a serious ride. The mountains and hills of the island became tools for her, and with expert precision she weaved between them while maintaining ludicrous speed. The enemy ship kept close behind her, firing madly with sustained bursts from its guns. Shots filled the air, tearing apart the forests she flew over and rending the hills she sped by, casting fire and debris into the air and leaving a trail of destruction. The pursuit lasted several minutes before anything changed, with the enemy commander failing to land even a single hit on her; yet he kept on trying, seemingly content to accept Vinyáya's challenge. Missiles and cannon shots screamed through the night air at every turn, and as she led the enemy ship around she looked out the window towards the cove at the other end of the island. She had caught sight of a few things there she could use, and it was nigh time to do so. The pilot who was attacking her was too skilled to engage in formal combat, not under current circumstances, so she needed to be unorthodox. Formulating a ridiculous plan, she then went into a steep climb and used her ship's thrust vectoring to spin her around to face the pursuing ship. A burst of laser fire forced the enemy to break off for the moment. Two more enemy ships attacked her at that moment, and she simply strafed them while she was plunging towards the ground, riddling them with holes and sending them spiraling out of control. Two explosions went off in the forest behind her as she resumed low-level flight, and a second later the enemy wing commander appeared through the smoke of his comrades' destruction, weapons blazing.

"Yeah, come right after me," Vinyáya rasped, evading the attacks as best she could while at the same time trying to maintain a straight path towards the cove. "Let you anger make you blind…"

The cove was right ahead of her in moments, along with the looming shadows of the human vessels grounded within it. Vinyáya went straight towards the largest one—the rusted IJN battlecruiser—and primed several time-delayed bombs to fire. When her opponent lined up directly on her rear, she fired the small smart bombs into the forward deck of the warship, but still she held a straight course towards it; the enemy, seeing her fly this way, foolishly held his course to take a final shot at her. Laser fire erupted behind and tore into her ship, but she only had to endure it for a second. Then, when she was nearly upon the human warship, the timers in the bombs hit zero.

There was a muffled explosion inside the bow of the human warship, one that made the whole forward section of it bulge outwards for a split second. Then, with an appalling amount of power, the ship exploded in an outpouring of fire, smoke, and shrapnel, its entire front torn to pieces and send upwards into the air. Vinyáya flew right over the ship before the artillery shells in its magazine detonated, but the Zephyr following close behind her arrived just in time to see a massive wall of fire looming before him. He pulled to the left, desperate to evade, but when it seemed like he would make it a large piece of debris emerged from the cloud of destruction. One of the massive barrels from the warship's turrets flew in midair, its wide opening pointed right at him as he flew towards it. There was no time to do anything but eject.

The Laconus pilot shot up out of the canopy of the fighter just in time. Not a second later the flying barrel and the speeding ship met. Metal struck metal, and the Zephyr-class fighter, despite all of its robust features, ended up like a shish kebab, pieced front to end by the artillery barrel and weighed down by its bulk. Both plunged into the cove, landing upon the flat deck of another one of the wrecks. Another explosion erupted, engulfing the entire cove with fire and smoke, and Commander Vinyáya, now flying above it, grinned despite herself. That was certainly a little overkill, but she liked it.

With her opponent taken care of, she set a course towards the mountains once again, where the fighting was still raging. She assessed the situation as she went. With the majority of the enemy air defenses disabled, and all of the remaining enemy ships distracted by her squadron, the sky was open for the rest of the taskforce to make its advance. Moving parallel to the largest mountain, and seeing the cluster of LEP transports hovering outside the range of the enemy guns, she opened a channel to her counterpart.

"Julius, I've cleared a path on the north side. You are clear to engage."

" _Roger that, Raine. Thank you."_

She nodded as she absentmindedly controlled her ship. "Be careful in there, and be sure to give Belenos my regards."

There was a pause as Root apparently thought about the inevitable confrontation with his past, followed by a nearly inaudible whisper. _"I will…"_

The channel cut off, and Raine, using the very same piloting skills that Holly liked to display, rejoined the battle in the sky. She was worried for Julius and the others, but she could not dwell on what may transpire inside that mountain. Holly was in there, and Root would soon join her along with the rest of his elite troops. She could not think of an enemy who could take them all on and survive, but then again it was not Belenos' plan to defeat them, but to bring about the use of his weapon against humanity. Even if they brought him down, he could still win. This was what troubled Vinyáya the most, for they were fighting an enemy that was stalling, not trying to win outright. So far they had not dented the real threat. So far, Belenos' work was untouched, and thus his true mission was still progressing unabated. She quickly shut this concern out of her mind as she engaged another enemy, putting her trust in the others to set things right.

 **Outside Laconus Headquarters**

 _Take care of yourself, Raine_ , Root thought as he watched her ship disappear into the chaos of the embattled sky. They had their own responsibilities to attend to now, and with the unpredictable nature of war, Root never knew when he would lose another of his friends or perhaps even his own life. It was always a gamble, a terrible risk, and despite his firm countenance he internally felt the pangs of that incertitude. But his mission took his mind by storm quickly enough, banishing his hidden insecurities and putting his thoughts on a solid, emotionless track. There was a large gap in Laconus' defenses, thanks to Raine and her fighters, and he knew how to make the most of it. _Now…_ he thought, turning towards the mountain that loomed before him, towards the fire and the smoke and the ever present danger of his enemy. _Time to face it…_

Commander Root was at the front of his shuttle, standing between the pilot and copilot with his arms crossed and his face as hard as stone. Behind him stood part of his retrieval team, and in several other ships nearby there waited another forty operatives. It was about time that they got to the heart of the enemy, and did the damage that would put an end to the bitter struggle. Root gave the order to move out, and a moment later four LEP transports rose from the protection of the clearing they had landed in, into the perilous night air.

"Take us in, nice and easy," Root growled as he watched the mountain get closer and closer. They ascended to an altitude that had them two-thirds up the mountain, and with their advanced scanners an entry point was located and marked for bombardment. The Commander, looking terrifying with his crimson shades and his deadly glare, merely motioned with his hand to give the order to fire. His transport had twice the armament of any of Vinyáya's ships, and all at once it belched out a third of it, sending a fusillade of missiles and heavy cannon fire into the small target area.

Inside the facility, at that same level, was Major Belenos' office. With its comfortable design it was quiet and saved from the sights, smells, and sounds of the battle. All was cast in shadows in that room, the screens all dormant and the lights dimmed and flickering from time to time. Only a slight haze of old cigar smoke hung in the air, but a second later, upon a muffled explosion of noise, everything was bathed in fiery red. The entire far wall of the office was blown apart, stone and glass flying inwards with a fury that was the product of a barrage of explosive missiles. Smoke and fire tore through the room, and the noise that was so well muffled before now roared like the very trumpets of the apocalypse. For ten seconds all hell broke loose, and then it ended abruptly, leaving the room relatively silent in its burning ruin. Smoke clogged the air after this, but the sound of a ship could be heard, followed by the echo of footsteps.

Through the smoke and fire appeared a dozen shadows, slowly detaching themselves from nothingness and transitioning into tangible reality. Commander Julius Root, fully donned in his recon armor, walked at the forefront of the group of intruders, his tri-barreled laser blaster held readily in his hands. His helmet's lamp sent a white beam through the haze, and his fierce eyes followed it, ever watchful for threats. When his officers had spread around the destroyed room and secured the door at the far end, he lowered his weapon and spoke into his mic.

"All clear. We're in."

At this word the rest of the entry team emerged through the smoke, bringing their total number to fifty-two. Julius, walking across the room towards the door, caught sight of the desk that lay torn in half in the center of the room. It drew him over, the memory of it from another life piquing his interest. Standing over it, he regarded its design and the woodwork upon it, and realized that it was the old desk Belenos had used back when he had been one of the upper officers in Police Plaza. This was his desk, and therefore it had to be his office as well. It was quite fitting that he should blast through it to gain entry, but he did not think of that. Instead, while his officers formed into their groups and checked their gear, he knelt down and opened the only drawer that was still intact. What he saw within was an old box, aged by many years but still legible in its print.

 _Good old Tuatha Dé cigars,_ he thought as he read it. It used to be his favorite brand, back a hundred years ago when his tastes were less refined. There was only one cigar left in the box, and Root understood that it was from long ago as well—a keepsake, from another life. Belenos must have been saving it for a special occasion. It elicited an odd feeling in Root's chest, one that he could not ignore. _You still smoke these damn things, even after all these years…_ A conflicted expression almost came to his face, followed by the saddest of smiles. _I told you it was a bad habit, but you always took after me…_

It was an odd memory to find in a warzone, making it all the more striking. Despite how radically they had both changed over the years, despite all the anger and hatred between them, this one vestige of their old friendship remained. Now it stood as a reminder of what once was and what could never be again, a tiny little window. Root shut the drawer with the barrel of his gun, shutting out the thoughts and the memories that it elicited. He could not bear them now, not at this moment. And yet, after a few seconds, he opened the drawer again and carefully took the cigar, stuffing it into his breast pocket. The room was on fire, bound to burn it up. It would be a shame to waste it—or, perhaps something else motivated him to save it. Regardless, he was standing tall once again and joining his officers at the door.

"Waiting on your orders, Commander," one of the captains said stoically.

"We're going in," Root growled, already with his blaster ready. "Follow me."

Most soldiers would balk at the sight of their highest-ranking superior making the first foray towards a heavily defended position, but none of these officers did. They had seen Root's courage in the past, and knew better than to stare at what appeared to be reckless determination. He knew what he was doing. Explosive charges fixed to the door detonated only moments after they were placed. Smoke and noise filled the air, and the metal door fell into the corridor beyond, landing with a booming metallic impact. All of the LEP officers were clustered on both sides, and for good reason. A deluge of laser fire erupted from beyond, cutting through the smoke and fire and tearing apart the already smoldering contents of the office.

Root stood right beside the door, a calm expression on his face as hundreds of lethal laser charges flew only inches to his left. He waited for a few moments, timing everything inside his head and in coordination with his team, and when the barrage did not let up he simply said a few words into his mic.

"Alpha-three, clear to engage."

Through the smoke and fire that filled much of the office sounded the roar of engines, and along with it came a blast of hot air. It churned the smoke and fanned the flames, and then made the view into the night slightly visible, where a massive shadow loomed. Root's transport hovered there, laden with weapons and aiming directly through the room and into the corridor beyond, where a dozen Laconus operatives were hunkered down. They saw the LEP ship and actually had the balls to start shooting at it. The subsequent response was quiet appropriate.

A single missile launched from the ship's wing. It shot through the office, right past a seemingly impassive Root, and careened into the hallway. The Laconus operatives had stopped shooting and had opted to run for their lives, but regardless of their reaction they would have been doomed—had the missile been a lethal armament. Instead, it was what the LEP called a _Zeus_ —a good name for what was really a giant stun weapon. It exploded at the far end of the hallway, emitting a wave of energy that swiftly knocked out anyone within range. As bodies dropped and surprised shouts echoed from beyond, Commander Root nodded to his officers and took the initiative. Stepping out into the open, he proceeded into the hazy corridor.

Twelve Laconus operatives lay before him, all strewn about like ragdolls. He walked past them without much concern, while some of the officers behind him took their weapons and tied them up. The rest of the force continued deeper into the facility, though not without issue. Root was the first to engage the enemy at close quarters, aiming instinctively around a corner to catch a group of enemies moving in to stop their advance. He fired a devastating burst from his customized blaster, and effectively knocked out all eight of them. When another peeked around a corner further ahead, he simply pegged him in the forehead without even looking. "Amateurs," he mumbled, finding room to shoot another officer who emerged through a door to his right. Sloppy, the lot of them. These were certainly not Belenos' elite troops, just cheap auxiliaries, nothing more than ex-convicts and washed out cadets given a gun and a uniform. The real fighting was still on the horizon.

"Foaly," the grizzled elf said as he walked. "Have you mapped this place out yet?"

" _I am still working on the upper levels, but I am just about finished with yours and below."_ The centaur sounded a little winded, as could be expected when he was tasked with taking down one the most robust security systems they had ever seen. _"They're persistent, I'll give them that. Twice they've locked me out, though I always find another way…"_

"Can you give me what you have so far?" Root growled impatiently.

" _Oh, of course…"_

A moment later Root saw a map come up on his HUD, complete with a blinking dot that indicated where he was. It was incomplete, as expected, but it did highlight a few key areas. Thinking strategically, and knowing exactly what he had to work with, the commander looked to his officers and spoke firmly.

"Captain Loingsech, take your squad and secure the armory. Lieutenant Sídhe, take the west wing of this level and secure the elevator system. Everyone else, with me. We're taking the command center now."

Everyone did as they were told, moving fluidly as if they operated by the will of a single conscience. As Root led his forces further into the facility, he heard Foaly speak suddenly in his ears.

" _Do I at least get a thank you?"_

At that very same moment a group of hostile operatives fired at them from ahead, intent on cutting them down as they were clustered in the hallway. Everyone dove for cover, and Root, gritting his teeth, shot down several of the attackers before taking up a position in an alcove with a few other officers. It was only then that he replied to the vexatious centaur.

"You break my concentration like that again, and you'll get a personal thank you from my fist."

" _Sorry sir…"_

Root could only nod and mutter something about narcissism and unhealthy intelligence, and then resume his precise shooting of the enemy officers. In a few minutes the ambush was pacified, and the advance resumed. Five officers had been wounded by the fighting, but they were not so severe that the medics could not heal them. Overall, they were doing well. Root could not help but wonder if the same could be said for Trouble, who was assaulting the last enemy stronghold outside, or Holly, who was somewhere beneath his feet leading the attack on the lower levels. They were both capable officers, and he trusted them to do their very best; the shadows of doubt lurked beyond the iron walls of his confidence, unable to instill their influence, even though he was inclined to be wary of unappealing possibilities. The combat, and the mission at hand, made it impossible for him to pause and feel his natural fears; once he was in the fray, no longer an observer, he was locked down by the ironclad nature of his strength.

Walking prudently down the corridor, flanked by his elite officers and followed by dozens more, he opened a channel to his other teams. As he expected, Trouble's was making solid progress, as were all the others. When he got Holly on the line, he immediately heart the roar of weapons fire and the boom of explosions. Despite this, Root was calm, and waited until the noise had ceased.

"Captain Short, status report."

" _Making progress, Commander,"_ she replied after a moment, clearly out of breath _. "Captain Arianrhod and his unit are with me. We just overran another hostile position. They keep trying to impede us, slow us down, but it's not working."_

"Good to hear," Root replied, before adding. "Casualties?"

" _Three wounded, sir, one seriously. They are being tended to presently."_

Root nodded as he heard the news. Casualties were inevitable, but fatalities were not so far; he wanted to keep it that way.

"Proceed as you were, Captain," he growled a moment later. "Secure that level and rendezvous on level A-4 as soon as you can."

" _Roger that."_

 **Level C-12, Laconus Headquarters**

Holly finished speaking with Root as she was occupied with clearing another corridor. Walking with measured, careful steps, she was at the forefront of the LEP force that was advancing through the hallway, and with a careful eye she watched her surroundings, her pulse rifle always shouldered and her finger ready to pull the trigger. "Alright boys and girls," she said coolly as she moved, "Foaly's map indicates two points of interest, which have been marked on your HUDs. We'll split into two groups at the next junction. Squads one and two. You know who you are." She was talking to the officers who had been placed under her command—not the dozens who were not hers to order around. Captain Arianrhod—an experienced elven officer who had sandy-brown hair and a narrow face—was walking alongside her the whole time, his officers dispersed amongst hers, and after she spoke he gave her a sidelong glance from behind his helmet.

"You're pretty good for having never led a unit before, I can see why Root brought you onboard. You saved some of my officers back in the hangar too."

"I do what is needed," Holly replied stoically, her eyes and mind ever on the dangers ahead.

Arianrhod nodded, his head on a swivel as well. "I will take my officers and secure the south end. That's where we expect reinforcements from."

Holly mumbled her agreement, finding it unnecessary to speak outright. Even a slight amount of distraction could lead to disaster. There was a junction ahead of them, the place where they were to split three ways. With caution they proceeded into the middle area where all four directions met, several officers taking up positions to cover each direction. Holly, along with Arianrhod and two other officers, waited until it was clear to move across to the other side. Yet as they moved, Holly felt a sudden sensation within her, a prickling of her intuition. She paused, glanced to her left, and saw to the far end of the hundred-foot hallway. At that moment all of the doors along it burst open.

"Get down!" Holly yelled, grabbing Arianrhod by the shoulder and pushing him ahead of her to safety. They both tumbled out of the way of a deluge of laser fire, which came from both left and right, and as they moved forward the rest of the LEP officers recoiled backwards. Cut off just like that, the two captains got to their feet and looked back to their officers, who were separated from them by the deadly storm of fire. The enemy was numerous and positioned behind doors and alcoves, and the perpetuity of the barrage kept anyone from making a meaningful retaliation.

"D'arvit!" Arianrhod growled, taking a few shots around the corner. "We cannot let them box us in when we're divided like this!"

"I know," Holly said, behaving far calmer then her counterpart. She signaled for her officers to hold their position, and then turned her back to the firefight and faced the empty corridor ahead of her. The enemy had them on both sides, but not to the front; that was too good to be true. With a furrowed brow and searching eyes, she took a few steps forward. Arianrhod followed, directly to her right, a look of equal tension contorting his features. With the battle raging directly to their backs, they could not hear the faint sounds around them. Only when a loud groan of metal sounded behind them did they turn. A hidden blast door suddenly dropped down from the ceiling, blocking the two of them off completely from the others.

"What the hell?!" Holly rasped, seeing the solid barrier and then instinctively shouldering her rifle. She faced the open hallway again, as the muffled sound of the fighting continued behind the thick metal door; it rang in her ears even though it was not loud enough to do so, as if the gravity of being isolated from her comrades served as volume in its own right. Furthermore, she knew that she had just fallen into a trap. "Foaly," she growled into her mic, "you better get this door open, and fast!"

" _I'm working on it…"_ the centaur replied a few seconds later. _"I'm split a lot of ways right now…And someone is really trying to keep this door shut…"_

"Looks like they wanted us alone," Arianrhod whispered as he eyed the area.

 _Or maybe just me…_ Holly thought intuitively.

They both began to walk forward slowly, weapons raised. If they could do anything, it would be to secure the end of the hallway, which was only ten meters away. It was better than standing with their backs against a wall. Nothing was said as they walked, but so much was felt—tension, uncertainty, and a creeping dread of the unknown. Holly found herself sweating more than she had the last twenty minutes, and it was because of the ominous feeling she kept getting, the chill of her mind's own assumptions. She pushed this unpleasant thing aside with disgust. _Concentrate, Holly. Concentrate…_

She and Arianrhod were nearing the end of the hallway when a faint click sounded behind them. Holly heard it first, and was the first to spin about. A crimson flash came at that same moment, taking the shape of a laser bolt as it screamed towards them. Holly dodged to the side, but it wasn't even aimed at her anyway; instead, it struck Arianrhod in the back while he was turning, burning through his armor and into his flesh. The elf dropped like a rock as it happened, but his pained cry made if evident that he was not yet dead. Holly, acting swiftly, took a shot at the source of the attack—a ventilation grate that had opened on the ceiling. It was a good shot, because it struck the shielded enemy in the face while he was in the process of firing another shot. The fairy shimmered into view as he went unconscious, hanging limply from the ceiling before coming lose entirely. With a _thunk_ he landed on his back and lay still.

"Bastard," Holly growled, keeping her weapon raised. She started towards Arianrhod, but she did not even get the chance, as happened so often in times like this. The corridor ahead of her was suddenly dotted by the presence of five spherical devices, which rolled from around the corner and bounced off the walls before settling a dozen feet from her. All she could do was throw herself over Arianrhod, who could not protect himself.

The detonations were loud and bright, clearly stun grenades, but there was also a wash of chaos in her helmet, citing electronic warfare. Her sensors were fried, her optics all went awry, and her headset was overwhelmed by a scream of disorienting noise. Holly gritted her teeth and threw the helmet off in but a moment, while at the same time bringing her rifle to bear while she covered her comrade. With the stun weapons going off, her eyes and ears were temporarily damaged, but she could not wait for things to improve. With an angry scream, she opened up fully-automatic on the corridor ahead of her, unleashing a random but devastating barrage. Her shots hit something, because she heard several impacts and a muttered curse, followed by a few retaliatory shots that seemed to graze her body. She growled despite herself, and then her eyes recovered.

Before her were three motionless bodies, all of them shimmering into the visible spectrum from magic-induced invisibility; they were well equipped, far better than the other she had dealt with. The insignia on their uniforms served as further proof of their identity, and it came as no surprise to her; she had actually expected something like this. _Look who wants another go at me…_ With a cold stare she waited, standing in front of Arianrhod, who lay writhing on the floor. There was nothing she could do for his wound, not without magic. "Stay down," she told him, albeit with a concerned tone. "I'll take care of this…"

With a venomous expression she started to walk forwards. She knew that they were waiting for her, but she could not let them attack her when one of her colleagues would be caught in the crossfire. Following her usual methodology, she took out several concussor grenades—her last three—and primed them one by one. Then, using the wall to bounce them, she sent them into the adjacent hallway. She heard them bounce on the floor beyond, and then there was the sound of shuffling feet. _Too late._ The grenades detonated, and the air was suddenly filled with chaos. Two enemy operative fell into her sight, knocked senseless, and she seized the moment to burst around the corner with her rifle raised. Through the destruction she aimed, seeing several targets crouching for cover further down the hall. She had them, but the moment she pulled the trigger there was a flicker of motion to her direct right. A blinding pain came the next moment as a heavy blow landed on the side of her head.

Holly's world was suddenly reduced to shadows and dancing spots, her vision distorted and her very mind scattered by the powerful strike. She stumbled backwards, her hands suddenly going weak and her weapon falling from her grip, and as she lost control over her own body she saw the shimmering form in the air once again. Another blow struck her across the forehead, dropping her like a sack of bricks. The next thing she knew she was on the floor, staring up at the shimmering air through tearing eyes.

"You just screwed up big time, Captain," a heartless voice spoke. It was as dreadfully familiar as the intimidating face that shimmered into view a second later. Captain Vepar Cailleach, wearing a subtly sinister expression, loomed over her with his laser rifle nearly touching her throat. At that pivotal moment their eyes met.

Holly felt raw fear in her heart as she lay dazed on the floor, but so was there determination and desperate strength. The power of the pain and weakness within her was significant, but far stronger was her desire not to die at this elf's hands. Reacting out of reflex and this resolve alike, she grabbed the barrel of Vepar's rifle and pushed it aside, while at the same time jumping to her feet and attacking with her other hand. Vepar had not been expecting such a fast recovery, because her punch struck him right in the mouth before he could do anything. The scarred elf stumbled back, blood spattering from his mouth and an angry growl escaping from his lips. Holly did not let up, even though she could not yet see straight. She drew her neutrino and brought it up to fire, not caring what setting it was on. This time Vepar moved faster, sidestepping her shots and coming in close to strike her hand with the butt of his rifle. This broke a few of her fingers, and made her drop the neutrino, but if that was supposed to stop her it was certainly insufficient. Without even slowing down she tackled Vepar and wrestled his rifle from his hands, and then proceeded to punch him over and over in the face with her broken and whole hands alike; her expression was contorted by a fury that was unlike her, and it added power to each of her angry strikes. She landed ten in total before he managed to gain an advantage. They rolled over, Vepar getting on top, and this time Holly received a number of punches to the face. Only when she kicked him off with her powerful legs did she get enough time to breathe and struggle back to her feet. It was then that she realized that she was surrounded by a number of Vepar's officers, and she froze where she stood, her eyes darting between them. They could have killed her then and there, but despite this none of them were even aiming at her—they simply watched, though ready to raise their weapons at a moment's notice. Vepar was standing apart from them, wiping the blood from his face.

"This one's mine," he growled to the others. "If anyone shoots her, I shoot them."

Holly glared at him, while her left hand slowly reached towards her backup neutrino. "How very polite of you," she rasped.

Vepar only stared at her, not bothering to speak. His expression was communication enough. For a long moment they stood there, five meters apart, both with their hands hovering over their holstered weapons. Seven Laconus special forces officers watched, their emotions hidden behind the opaque surfaces of their helmets. Holly felt trapped, which she was. Sweat slowly rolled down her face, mingling with the blood that oozed from her nose, and the taste of fear was in her mouth. She could think of no way of getting out of this situation in one piece, and that unsettled her more than anything.

 _Stall for time…_ she thought, while her hand hovered over her pistol. _Just a little more time…_

Time was a fickle mistress, and she showed her colors then. All of the sudden Vepar drew his blaster, moving so fast that the motion was nothing short of a blur, and before Holly could react she felt the burn of a laser shot in her left leg. She fell to one knee, gasping due to the pain, but with a hateful glare she drew her neutrino and tried to retaliate. Another shot struck, this time in her right leg, and so as she fired her own weapon she fell on her face, thereby missing completely. Agony overtook all of her senses, overwhelming her mind, but there was still the core of iron within her that helped her struggle to regain her footing. A booted foot denied her even this, striking her on the back and pressing her against the cold metal floor. This was followed by a powerful kick in her right side, so powerful that it made her gag; her kidney was definitely ruptured. She should have been dead, but for some reason Vepar had used a lower setting on his rifle to maim her. He was toying with her.

 _D'arvit!_ she thought, glaring ahead at the feet of her enemies as she lay there. Her left hand desperately clutched around the grip of her neutrino, purposely pressing several buttons on it, but a strong kick knocked it free, sending it clattering down the hallway. Disarmed and maimed, Holly felt all of her confidence begin to drain away; reality set in with every throb of agony, like the cold upon the blowing an arctic wind. Vepar and the others who stood around her had once been recon as well, the very same as her, and she had known before that they had been as good has her back in their time. Little had she known that Vepar was skilled enough to beat her in a draw. That was why she lost. She had assumed her own skill and strength to be enough, and she was wrong. At that moment, it became clear to her that she was out of her league; she was only a newly recruited recon officer, and despite all of her natural talent she was far from matching those who had been in the field for hundreds of years. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but these foes were better than her, plain and simple. As she lay in agony on the floor, tasting her own blood, she chided herself for being so reckless, though it hardly made a difference.

A booted foot dug under her chest and rolled her over on her back, spinning her view to take in the cold elf that loomed over her. She saw the look in his eyes, and knew that if she did nothing she would be killed. With gasping breaths and involuntary tears, she struggled to get to her knees, the effort harder than anything she could have imagined. Vepar watched her emotionlessly, his eyes seemingly lifeless as they bore witness to her suffering.

"What a waste," he said softly, pushing her back down with his foot. He then stomped his boot down upon her chest, pinning her where she lay. "Look at you," he said coldly, cocking his head, "you can't even stand on your own two feet by yourself."

Holly breathed raggedly as she lay on the floor, blood gurgling in her mouth as she tried to speak. "Is that sufficient to make you feel strong?"

"I could have killed you by now," he replied heartlessly.

Despite how defenseless she was, Holly spoke defiantly. "You…should have..."

Vepar chuckled a little, an evil glinting in his eyes. "No time like the present, Captain…"

The warm presence of a charged laser rifle hovered just above her head, the barrel of the weapon mere inches from her eyes. Staring up into that deadly black hole was a surreal experience, for when one looked so closely into the barrel of a weapon it seemed to get larger and larger, until a small bore weapon appeared to be a mile wide. She was inclined to squeeze her eyes shut, but she did not. Instead she looked straight at the thing that would kill her, a glimmer of hope in her eyes, though it was a desperate hope based on an insane idea.

"Nothing personal, Captain," Vepar said, a ghost of a smile on his scarred face.

An explosion wiped that smile off in an instant, replacing it with a look of surprise and pain. A sudden blast erupted from where Holly's discarded neutrino had landed, casting fire and shrapnel into the air and cutting through the hallway and all that stood in the way. Several of Vepar's officers fell where they stood, others stumbled back or went prone, and Vepar himself recoiled as a piece of hot metal sliced through the right side of his face and blinded his right eye. Holly, lying flat on the floor, was spared the deadly fragments, and as this chaos ensued she could not help but feel a little surprised. She had never manually overloaded a neutrino before, and the idea that it would violently explode was only theoretical, but now it was proved by results. With her foes all distracted and wounded, she used the energy she had been saving up along with the adrenaline that came so naturally, and rose to stand on her scorched legs. The pain was horrendous, but it was nothing compared to the resolve that bubbled up within her, rekindled by the sudden change of the tide.

Smoke filled the air as she rose, and the heat from the blast surrounded her as she struggled to remain standing. She glanced around, seeing several of the enemy officers motionless on the floor, though she could not tell whether they were alive or dead. Her gaze instinctively fell upon Vepar, who was on his back covering his face with one hand and cursing aloud. Blood ran between his fingers, and his previously stoic countenance was awash with anger, hatred, and shock. Holly, somehow moving with two wounded legs, scooped up her fallen pulse rifle and walked towards him. Her eyes were suddenly wide with fury, and her mouth was open in a vicious snarl. It was a primal reaction to a life and death situation, and she nearly lost control.

Several of Vepar's officers were still conscious, and through the smoke they could be seen as mere shadows. Holly shot one as he tried to aim for her, and struck another when a quickly-aimed shot screamed past her ear. Two more were still on the floor, and she made sure they stayed there. That left only Vepar, who shot up to his feet and fired at her with an incomprehensible fury. The crimson bolts of energy she had predicted, and on weak legs she swayed to the side, avoiding them by inches, and as Vepar tried to get off another burst she fired her own rifle from the hip, hitting him several times in the chest and once in the arm, making him drop his weapon. She expected him to go down then and there, but he did not. Instead, somehow resisting the effects of the lower-powered charges, he came at her with a roar, a knife in his hand and a murderous glint in his one remaining eye. The blade flashed before it came into contact with Holly, and she barely blocked it by using her own forearm as a shield. It went clean through and became stuck there, and Holly quickly pushed back before Vepar could press his advantage; the pain did not even occur to her in her furious state. With a backhand she struck him in the face, and when he lost his grip in the lodged knife she brought her rifle to bear and held it like a baseball bat. A solid jab to Vepar's face made him stumble back, and then, pouring all of her anger and pain into a mighty swing, Holly screamed and struck the elf straight across the face with enough force to snap the weapon's stock right off. The blow was so powerful that it shattered his jaw and half of his face, and it made him spin around before falling over. Without even a grunt he landed heavily on the floor, where he lay motionless amidst the smoke and destruction and an ever growing pool of his own blood. Holly loomed over him, breathing heavily and glaring like a devil, and she remained that way for a full minute until rationality regained control of her mind. Slipping back from the madness of combat, she suddenly felt her pain and weariness return. With a groan she stumbled backwards and slid down to a sitting position against the wall. And there she remained, staring at Vepar's still form and holding her pulse rifle halfheartedly in her hands. There was a knife still stuck in her forearm, but she ignored it. It was easy enough to ignore, given how much pain she was already in, that and it would be foolish to remove it without immediate medical treatment. And so Holly Short sat there, dazed and wounded, smelling smoke and tasting blood.

It took her a few minutes to fully collect herself, and when she did she did her best to focus on what she could still do. Her legs were still whole, but the flesh was burned badly, and there were a number of other wounds that ached like hell whenever she moved. Still, she could not lay there in defeat, for the fight was not yet over, and if she recalled correctly Arianrhod had been more seriously wounded than her. With this on her mind, she fought her way back to a standing position, and used the wall as support to make her way back to her colleague. She found him as she had left him, and she was terrified to find that he was not moving anymore. Almost falling over, and trembling from pain, she got to his side and checked his pulse and breathing. It was to her great relief that he was still alive, if not just barely. Without pause she checked for broken bones, neck and head injuries, and after finding none she put him on his side—the purpose being so that if he vomited he would not choke to death on it. "Hold on," she said to him, her face now serious despite her own state. "Help is coming…" "

A few minutes later, the door that had blocked their path opened. The fighting behind it had long since ceased, and so Holly was aiming at it as it lifted just in case Laconus had managed to overwhelm her officers. She lowered her weapon when she saw the familiar sight of LEP uniforms and gear.

"Captain, are you alright?" the foremost of them, one of her lieutenants, said worriedly. He paused and noticed Arianrhod, and then called over his shoulder for the medics. Three of them came to their aide, and as one of them tried to help Holly she spoke out angrily.

"Tend to him first. I can wait."

The medics did so reluctantly, but that concentrated treatment was what ended up saving Arianrhod's life. When he was carried away to be taken to the hangar, the medics then put their skills into mending Holly's numerous wounds. As they did this, she spoke to the first lieutenant, a gnome named Triskel.

"We managed to push back the enemy assault," he said, recalling the incident. "We sustained some casualties, but none of them were fatal. Last count we had twelve wounded. As for the enemy unit, they have all been detained."

"Excellent work," Holly said, albeit through barred teeth—the medics were being as careful as they could possibly be, but the extent of her wounds made it so that even the gentle touches resulted in agony. Triskel seemed to notice this, as he softened his tone and spoke understandingly.

"We can take it from here, Ma'am."

"No…" Holly rasped, wincing as the knife was removed from her arm. "I…I will carry on."

Triskel was surprised, if not outright amazed. "You can't possibly…"

"Yes, I can," she growled, looking him in the eye and daring him to say otherwise. "Who else will lead these officers? I'm the only captain left down here, and half of the noncoms are WIA as well." She paused as one of the medics administered a heavy dose of magic, which swirled around her wounds and rejuvenated her body. "Besides, I know this facility better than any of you. I will lead."

The Lieutenant was in no position to argue with her, given that she would soon be healed and that she outranked him—and as he had learned, there was no arguing with her in general. He merely nodded and stepped back, returning to his duties. Holly thanked the medics when they were finished, and then stood tall, testing her limbs and rubbing her legs, which were rather sore. After ensuring that her body was in relatively suitable condition, she walked over to where she had tossed her helmet and put it back on.

"Thanks for opening the door," she said into her mic.

" _They used the manual override,"_ Foaly said dejectedly. _"They literally tore it from the system connection. I had no way of bypassing it remotely."_ He paused, his confidence shaken. _"Sorry, I almost got you killed…"_

"No you didn't," Holly growled, angry at her friend's self-deprecation. "The bastards strewn about this hallway almost did that." She looked across the hallway, to where Vepar and his subordinates were being dragged and restrained. "Shit happens Foaly, and shit just happened."

" _Yeah…thank you,"_ the centaur replied, a little more color in his uncharacteristically demoralized voice.

Holly smiled a little. "No problem."

After ending the call with Foaly, Holly focused on commanding the officers who waited around her. There was still much to be done, and had it not been for her medics she would have been incapable of carrying on. This made her frown as she surveyed her remaining troops. She had been making a pattern of it, getting wounded and then needing to be healed by someone else. Such dependency was not what she wanted to show, and it surely had its drawbacks. If only she had some magic of her own! If only she could recharge. But there was no way of doing so in this place, so far away from the proper grounds. In the end she had to forego the sense of independence and accept her weakness. She just hated using magic from medics who could be using to help others. The sound of distant gunfire was enough to stop this tangent of thought.

"Waiting on your orders, Captain," Lieutenant Triskel said to her as the ominous, muffled combat reached their ears.

Looking at each of her officers, meeting their eyes, Holly spoke firmly. "Our mission has not change. You all know the objectives. Let's get to them."

With the remainder of her forces, and those who had once been under Arianrhod's command, Captain Short started down the corridor where Vepar had almost killed her. She ignored the blood on the floor—a mix of hers and Vepar's—and focused on what was ahead. The elevator system was close, and once that was seized she would rendezvous with Commander Root on the upper level. Hopefully it would be over soon. The dawn was coming, and her premonition had not changed. When the sun rose, so would the new reality either they or Laconus fought for.

 **Command Center, Laconus Headquarters**

The sounds of battle were dulled within the secure confines of the command center. A steady cacophony of hard-working officers overpowered the distant rumbles and booms of war, for the moment giving a sense of distance, control, and security. That was not true, of course, with the way things were going, but no one thought about it anyway. Everyone was determined, putting their all into their work in hopes that Laconus' mission—Project Morrígan—could be finished. Major Belenos Æthelryth was the most resolute of them all, betraying no insecurity or fear as he watched his army's steady decline—the dominoes were falling all the same, in the right direction. So far it was all within acceptable parameters, and once again he thought that so long as Project Morrígan was not affected all would be well. Time, he just needed a little more time.

Yet, despite this confidence, he could not help but frown at what he saw on the screen before him. He had been watching the intense fighting taking place throughout his facility, and had kept his eye particularly on a certain female officer. He had sent Captain Cailleach and his elite team to deal with her, and though he had accepted the possibility of him failing, he had not suspected him of making an appalling tactical error. But he had, and to see Holly now, victorious over one of his best and oldest subordinates, served to mar his stoic countenance with the undulations of vexation and dismay.

"Vepar, you fool," he whispered, inaudible to everyone but himself.

Vepar had had every opportunity to kill Holly then and there, and yet he had thrown it all away for the sake of mending his wounded pride. Now Vepar and his elite unit were out of the equation, leaving Belenos with even less than he had before; all of his pieces, like variables, were being whittled down, falling one by one to an enemy that was persistent as well as highly dangerous. To think that one of his best officers would fall victim to an unprofessional proclivity was ridiculous, and it made him frown deeper while he regarded the progress of the battle. _We're all flawed, after all. No vessel is bereft of blemish, no mind is impenetrable to faults…_

He watched as Vepar and his officers were restrained and put under armed guard, and when he saw one of the LEP medics healing the captain's shattered face—Holly's frightful handiwork—he took comfort in the fact that Vepar and his officers would at the very least survive. The LEP, unlike Laconus, still believed in the traditional rules of war. Belenos could at least know that his old friend was not dead—he had lost so many friends, and so few remained. "You did well, my old friend," he said, his emerald eyes slightly narrowed. "You are forgiven for your mistake, we all make them. You can rest now."

Belenos had his hands behind his back, but now he brought them forward, crossing them for a moment as she smoothly shifted his attention from his defeated colleague to the matter at hand. Several groups of LEP operatives had breached the facility and were progressing with impressive speed, and to make matters worse they were led by two of the most troublesome fairies he knew—one being Holly, and the other Commander Julius Root. The latter was currently on the very same level as the command center, though at present Laconus forces had stopped his advance and established a solid defense. They could hold him off for a long time, but that was not the issue. With Captain Short and her forces now past Vepar and his auxiliaries, only a few small groups of officers stood in their path of reaching the upper levels—no other units could be repositioned in time. If they managed to get there, they could easily break through the thin line of defense and assist Root's forces. And if that happened, the whole level would fall, including the very room he stood in. As he thought about this, and heard reports coming in from his units in the field, he came to the conclusion that it was only a matter of time. With a solid expression he turned and spoke to his chief technical officer, a very intelligent pixie by the name of Ferdiad Branwen—perhaps not Opal Koboi smart, but surely making up for it in his lack of narcissism and sociopathic tendencies.

"What is the status on that vexatious centaur's intrusion?"

The pixie spoke while he worked, easily splitting his attention without sacrificing effectiveness. "He is causing quite a fair amount of chaos in the lower levels. Virtually none of the doors or security measures are functional—he's bypassed and disabled all of them, and locked me out."

Belenos nodded slowly. "And the elevator system?"

"He's managed to plant some bugs in it," Ferdiad replied. "Worst case scenario I will have to shut down the system completely. But even then, the intruders have enough wings to simply fly up the shaft."

"Indeed, that seems to be the case," Belenos said calmly, watching the screen and seeing that Holly and her officers were carrying sets of wings for that precise situation. "What about Project Morrígan?"

"Though the LEP has compromised the lower levels, systems for Project Morrígan are virtually untouched. I will focus on isolating the enemy breach and fortifying the security measures on the key levels that we still control. It will buy us more than enough time."

"Excellent work," the Major said approvingly. "Keep them busy for as long as you can, and ensure that Root's pet genius doesn't get any easy gains."

Ferdiad grinned—he loved a challenge like that. "Gladly, sir."

Major Belenos then shifted his attention back to his personal dilemma. Time was running short, and the dawn was at hand. Only a little longer and all of his years of work would either bear fruit or fall away into oblivion. He knew that he could not hold his facility forever, not with the LEP advancing as they were, but that had never been his intention anyway. As long as Project Morrígan was a success, there was victory. He just could not stand by and wait for it to happen, and if he got caught up in the fighting, he may very well not be able to oversee its final stage, something that he wanted to command personally. Another look at the screens and battle map made his mind up for him. It was time to make his way to the heart of his ambition, and pull the final strings that would bring about a new era. With this on his mind, he looked to his third in command, a grizzled elven captain named Argyros Dalriata.

"The time has come," Belenos said resolutely. "I must see to the final stage of the project and its execution. I am leaving this level in your capable hands, Argyros. Hold them off for as long as you can. Every second that you buy will be decisive."

The elf—another one of his old comrades from the past—nodded, a prideful look on his face. "I will do everything in my power to stop them. May the gods watch over you."

"Likewise, my friend," Belenos said, a ghost of a smile on his face. They shook hands, for what could be the last time, and went their separate ways. Belenos emerged into the hallway a few seconds later, his stride long and powerful, and despite the fighting that echoed through the metallic corridors he was alone. He did not need anyone guarding him now, not when everyone was needed to hold off the LEP. It was his responsibility to protect himself, no one else's, and besides that he knew that no LEP forces had gotten far enough to threaten him. So he walked, his stature and countenance the epitome of might, and looked ahead upon the coming of his destiny. When he reached a smaller, hidden elevator, he spoke into his communicator.

"Aoife, status report."

The sound of the elf's voice came through clearly, even though there was much noise in the background. She was excited, and anxious, though with her usual restraint it barely registered in her intonation. _"Keeping with the schedule, Belenos. The virus and its implants are almost primed and ready. Loading procedures will not take long…"_

"And the delivery system?"

" _Fueled and programmed to your specifications, it's on standby in the silo."_

"Good. I am on my way."

He stepped into the elevator and entered a pass-code on its control panel, and then felt a slight lurch as he began to move upwards at high speed. This elevator would take him to the top level in the facility, and incidentally, the top of the mountain. There he would oversee the end of the human world. This level, where his genocidal weapon was being prepared, was completely separate from the rest of the facility's network, isolated and reinforced by the best security he could find. He had already consolidated what remained of his private security forces, so that in the event that the LEP broke through below they could mount a final defense. As his orders stood, these would be joined by the remnants of several other units, leaving only Argyros' officers below on the command level. When it all came down to the last straws, most of Laconus' remaining might would be at the summit, protecting Project Morrígan. Belenos knew that in doing so he would be backing his officers against a wall, giving them no way out, no escape. This was purposely done. Throw troops in a position where there is a way of escape, fear will drive them to it; place them in a position from which there is no escape, and even when faced with death they will not flee. In such a desperate state, they would fear nothing, and with no escape, they would stand firm. It was an old principle of war, ancient yet timeless.

It took only a few seconds for the elevator to come to a halt, the sensation of its passage slowing down before all was rendered still. Its door opened noiselessly, ushering in the sounds of industry—the rumbles of the battle outside were almost inaudible. Belenos, after absentmindedly adjusting the golden insignia on his lapel, stepped out into the well-lit expanse beyond, passing from the lift over another point of no return. There were a number of shimmering forms in the area he walked, all positioned at defensible spots and completely still. The Major spoke offhandedly as he walked past them.

"At ease."

The twenty shielded fairies immediately dropped their disguises, their dark attire shimmering into existence along with their luminous eyes. They paid no more attention to their leader as he progressed through the area, content to keep their eyes on the only entrance to the chamber. Amidst the hum of their charged weapons and the hushed dialogue between them, Belenos cast his eyes about in silent appraisal. The walls and roof of the entire hallway were, in parts, nothing more than solid rock, with patches of unnatural construction for air vents and other essential systems. Pallets and hovercarts were situated around the large room, laden with boxes and pieces of machinery, and several large metal doors loomed open along the right wall to reveal a large storage room with long, cylindrical containers. Sound echoed as it always did in the confined caverns of the world, and these reverberations, hailing from another large doorway at the end of the room, drew Belenos just as water draws life. Past an open set of meter-thick blast doors he strode, once more further down the irreversible path he walked, and when he passed through another large room he entered a third, where he stopped. There was so much to see in that place, so many technological wonders, but his eyes fell on only one. He looked up at the large missile that loomed in the center of the chamber, and smiled a heartless, chilling smile.

"If only our ancestors could see this day," he whispered, a wondering glimmer in his eyes that melted with the darkness that lurked there. "How they would rejoice to see the harbinger of their soon to be rekindled glory..."


	19. Dawn

**Level A4, Laconus Headquarters**

"Spread out, we've got incoming!"

Those were the words of the lieutenant in charge of a dozen Laconus soldiers, uttered with great urgency and even a little fear—the latter hidden beneath the solid veneer of a commissioned officer's fearless persona. He had his laser rifle ready in his hands as he and his subordinates moved through the corridor, and his lidless vermillion eyes—he was a goblin, after all—stared intently at the closed door at the end. It was the main elevator, and it was his job to keep it under Laconus control.

The squad of well-armed fairies spread out and took up defensible positions in alcoves and doorways, and in a few moments everyone was in place. Stillness took over, an intense nothingness as they all waited for the inevitable, and it was made ominous by the distant sound of fierce combat. The goblin lieutenant, Zagar Azb'el, was aware of the presence of Julius Root's forces and the battle that was ensuing, but he had his back to them all. His attention was on a more recent threat, and a rather unexpected one. The now infamous LEP captain, Holly Short, had defeated their elite squad, _Drakon_ , and had even bashed Vepar's head in with the stock of her rifle. Now she was on her way to the command level, and though the elevator had been disabled, no one thought that she would not be able to find a way up. Will always finds a way, and Holly had willpower of astounding quality. Lieutenant Azb'el regarded the closed elevator warily, and spoke while he took up a position in an alcove. "Keep sharp, this is going to happen fast. Watch your angles, check your crossfire, and conserve your ordnance. They cannot be allowed to break through!"

He and his officers settled into the unpleasant state of waiting. Tension seemed to permeate the very air, imperceptible to the eye yet so very present to the heart and mind, flowing like a dampness that could not be shaken and penetrating to the very core of the officers as they waited. Then, all of the sudden, there came a muffled rumble from within the elevator shaft, followed by a noticeable vibration in the floor. Everyone tensed up, aiming within unblinking eyes down the sights of their rifles. Another rumble came, very close at hand, and this time a slight amount of smoke crept through the cracks in the doorway. Lieutenant Azb'el shouldered his laser carbine, a slight tremble in his motion. "Alright, give 'em hell lads,"

An explosion tore through the air to punctuate his speech, but it was them, not the LEP, who received a generous helping of perdition. Fire and smoke blasted into the corridor as the supposedly reinforced doors bent and gave way, and these metal barriers were carried on this wave of destruction with astounding speed. One of these pieces of twisted metal, flying like a grotesque Frisbee, slammed into three of the waiting soldiers, shattering their armor and bones and sending them cartwheeling down the hallway. Azb'el glanced at this unfortunate event, cursed under his breath, and then yelled out to the rest of his officers. "For Frond's sake, open fire!"

The remaining Laconus soldiers roared and fired indiscriminately into the smoke and fire that had consumed the elevator before them, seemingly contending against hell itself with the crimson fusillade of their deadly weapons. They continued to fire for a full two minutes, unloading thousands of shots as they went full-auto, and when Lieutenant Azb'el called for them to cease fire it was like a sudden ending to a torrential rain. Silence and stillness came again, only broken by the swirling smoke and the distant echoes of combat. Azb'el, still with his carbine raised, spoke through his barred, sharp teeth. "Hold your positions. Let them make their move."

Not a second later a single of blue neutrino shot careened through the smoke and struck the goblin officer in the head. He fell like a rock, to his subordinates' dismay, but there was no time for them to truly react. A swift volley of neutrino charges blasted out of the gloom, cutting through the air and turning the smoke's churning greys to hues of blue. All of them met a mark, pegging the Laconus officers before they could take cover, sending them tumbling over almost at the same time. It all happened in two seconds, incredibly fast, leaving the hallway strewn with stunned fairies. Only after the fight was over did something move in the obscurity. The acrid smoke churned, and shadows moved with it, concealed by the folds of grey and black like ghosts advancing in a mist. A single figure materialized out of this obscurity, taking form and smoothly detaching itself from the clinging tendrils of smoke. Captain Holly Short emerged noiselessly, like a shade from the underworld, and behind her appeared more and more of similar shades. Not one of them had been touched by the fighting, as if they were indeed formless beings, lifeless contrivances of the mind. But they were not, of course. They were the best at what they did.

Holly walked purposefully forward, over the motionless bodies of her enemies, her rifle held readily and her hazel eyes—which seemed luminous in the failing light—watchful and cold. She was in a very serious mood, a perpetual glare on her face, and her stride was one of measured haste. She knew exactly where she was going, and she was determined to get there.

Out of the corner of her eye she caught a flicker of motion, one of the downed Laconus operatives stirring to her right. "I don't have time for this shit," she growled, switching her weapon's firing mode. She did not even pause or look his way; she merely extended her rifle in one hand and fired a burst into his chest, sending him back down to the floor with a thud. With this one taken care of, she spoke to the officers who were following behind her. "Alpha group with me, the rest of you know where to go. We will rendezvous as planned. Move out."

With a third of her officers following close behind her, Holly proceeded towards the distant echoes of combat. Her intention was to assist Root and his officers, and to consequently crush the enemy that assailed them. She needed to be swift. Time was of the essence.

They rushed down the halls, encountering not a single enemy. The ones they had just eliminated were the only ones Laconus could muster with their dwindling numbers. Some took heart at this realization, but Holly did not. Something told her that the worst was yet to come, and so, wearing a determined expression, she moved warily to the end of the hallway she was in, stopping before going around the bend. Looking back to her officers, she motioned for someone to bring a _scope_. A _scope_ was a small device, the concept similar to devices humans used for the same purpose, using a tiny, hair-like camera to peer around the corner and detect thermal signatures. The officer using it only needed a second, and then he stepped back and spoke sotto voce.

"Three hostiles, holding positions at the far end."

Holly nodded. She now knew exactly where she was in relation to the enemy force—their rear guard, only a small group of sentries. She quickly communicated with the other squads she had sent elsewhere, confirming their readiness, and then spoke resolutely to the officers around her. "Prepare to attack. We'll be going in on the Commander's word." She then opened a channel to Root, hopeful that he would be able to respond. "Commander, I have three squads holding position on the enemy's rear and right flank. Awaiting your orders."

Through the sound of weapons fire and explosions the grizzled elf replied. _"Excellent work. We will make a push and finish this. Be ready to move on my command."_

"Already ready, sir," Holly stated, glancing at her waiting officers.

 _"Alright,"_ Root growled. _"Ten seconds then. Give them hell on your end."_

Holly only nodded, not needing to voice her commitment to that goal. A gesture to the others had everyone falling in line, weapons ready and ordnance up front. Ten seconds flashed by, lightning quick and intense, and when Holly heard the order in her headset she burst into action. "Now!"

The LEP forces attacked all at once, moving in on three fronts against the defending Laconus forces. Holly and her officers fired a barrage of concussor grenades into the enemy position, shattering their feeble defense and scattering the few sentries. Then, charging forward with weapons raised, they overran the rear guard and proceeded right into the rear and right flank of the larger enemy force. With Root and his officers pressing from the front, the enemy could barely react to Holly's multi-pronged assault, and she found this out after she shot a duo of officers and burst around the next corner. She saw at least forty Laconus officers, all with their backs to her. It would have made her grin, had she not been in her furious mood. Instead she glared at her enemy and opened fire.

The enemy dropped like flies as she fired indiscriminately into their ranks, but she was soon forced to pull back and take cover as they returned fire. It was at this moment that the rest of her officers pressed the attack from their right and Root from the front, sandwiching them between a dreadfully powerful advance. Laser shots and explosions filled the air, and Holly, now attacking again amidst a whirlwind of chaos, could feel the sheer magnitude of it all shaking her senses—though to no avail. Brutal and deadly were the next thirty seconds as she and her officers moved forward, overwhelming enemy positions and braving death itself.

"Come on!" she yelled, firing from the hip while she reached for another grenade. She threw it into an alcove where three enemies were hiding, blowing them out into the open and leaving them writhing on the floor. She shot them without sympathy and carried on, her very mind trying to remain balanced amidst the madness. With smoke clogging the air, she could only see shadows, so she had to engage them close enough to differentiate friend from foe. It got close and personal, with rifles being used like clubs and knives being employed ferociously. A thick cloud of black smoke wafted in front of Holly as she moved, blocking her sight. She ended up face to face with a Laconus officer, who had his rifle raised so that it almost touched her chest. _D'arvit! s_ he thought as she reacted, grabbing the weapon with her left hand and shoving it aside before it could fire. She kneed the enemy in the chest, bowling him over, and followed up with two shots. Before she was finished shooting she felt something behind her, and out of instinct she moved left. An arm holding a dagger sped past her at eye level, missing her by an inch. Moving swiftly, she grabbed it and snapped the arm at the elbow, and then threw the attacker to the ground with a classic move. "And stay down!" she rasped, punching the disarmed fairy in the face several times.

Holly was so distracted by this fighting that she did not notice an enemy right behind her. She heard a shot from a weapon close at hand, and then saw the Laconus soldier fall beside her, unconscious. She stood up quickly, startled, and looked into the confusing haze down the sight of her neutrino. Shadows moved there, and they detached themselves fluidly, revealing themselves to be LEP officers.

"Hello, Captain," the foremost of them said, his face hidden behind his helmet. He was holding a tri-barreled neutrino, still steaming from use. It was Commander Root.

Holly did not salute or anything—that was not protocol during combat—instead she lowered her weapon and spoke as clearly as she could in spite of her ragged breathing. "Thanks."

"Likewise," Root said gruffly, walking past her and surveying the area. "The enemy position is overrun. It trust that your officers have not let any of them escape?"

"I dispersed teams to all sectors, they will catch any stragglers," Holly replied, now having regained her breath.

By this time the smoke from the fighting was beginning to decrease, revealing the true extent of the carnage. The floor was laden motionless forms, all Laconus officers who had been caught in the brutal crossfire. A number of LEP wounded were among them, but it would seem that the enemy had not been able to inflict any serious casualties in the chaos, only a dozen or so wounded. Holly's attack had ruined the enemy's cohesion and turned their numbers against them, as could be seen by a number of their casualties having burn marks from friendly fire. It was a total mess.

"Tend to the wounded, and secure the prisoners," Holly growled as she walked through the destruction. "Alpha group with me. The rest of you secure the area." There was only one objective left on their level, that being the command center—the very heart of Laconus, she believed. With Commander Root's forces backing her up, she proceeded down the hallway that the enemy had been protecting, and stopped at the large doorway that barred entry to the command center. She stared at it for a second, and then spoke into her microphone.

"Foaly, open sesame."

 _"Roger that,"_ the centaur replied. _"Be careful, I have no eyes in that room; they have fried their surveillance network so that I cannot use it against them."_

Holly nodded, moving to the side as the door slowly opened. Ten of her officers were ready on either side, in formation to make an entry, and she grinned recklessly despite herself as she waited for the door to open. "Knock knock…" she said, priming a flash grenade and rolling it under the rising blast door. Light and noise filled the space beyond, and then Holly burst around the corner, her officers following right at her back. What she beheld was an empty room, and at the same time she heard a beeping sound echo from within. In that split-second she felt her blood freeze. _Oh shit…_

An explosion tore through the command center, blossoming from the middle of it and expanding outwards to consume all of it with fire. Secondary explosions went off almost at the same time, and the combined force of it slammed into Holly and sent her flying backwards. It was like being punched by a troll, plus extreme heat and shrapnel. Next thing she knew she was on the other side of the hallway, slamming into the wall. The sudden halt knocked out what little breath remained within her, and as she slid into a decrepit sitting position against the wall she gasped for breath, desperate and reflexive. Smoke and fire swirled around her as she lay there in that state. Her vision blurred, her ears rang, and her whole body trembled from the shock; she could perceive nothing of the world around her, nothing at all.

It took what felt like an hour for her to get air back into her lungs, so long that she feared she would pass out. Thankfully she did not. She was sweating profusely, and as she breathed raggedly she looked up at the blurred chaos before her. Her vision was coming back, but her ears still rang, and so all she heard was muffled noises while her eyes made sense out of the distorted colors. Her head lolled downwards again, and then she saw an object right between her legs. A second later it became distinguishable. It was a demolition charge. The explosion must have sent it flying before it could go off, bringing it to rest nearly at her crotch. She stared at it, wide eyed and frankly terrified. The timer was at zero, and it beeped over and over, endlessly but to no avail. It was then that Holly saw that several of its wires had been cut, likely by shrapnel, thereby rendering it inert. An infinitesimal stroke of luck had saved her life.

For a long moment she just sat there, staring at the unexploded device. Only when her hearing recovered fully did she remember herself and snap out of her daze. She looked down at herself, seeing pieces of metal stuck in her armor—but not one of them penetrating far enough to harm her. She should have been dead, but it seemed that the powers that be did not have that in mind for her, at least not yet. Shaking her head, and still shuddering a little, she got to her feet.

The hallway was a mess, all scorched and laden with bits and pieces of the exploded command center. It was then that she noticed the bodies of a number of Laconus officers further down the hallway; they had likely ambushed them the moment the room had exploded, and in her daze, Holly had perceived none of it. She eyed the unconscious foes and then looked to her own. The other LEP officers had been spared the worst of the explosion, and Root's elite had swiftly pacified the ambushers, resulting in only a few wounded on their side while the enemy lost everything. This made Holly frown—she had literally sat in the crossfire, helpless—but she quickly shifted her attention away from it for the sake of her own conscience. Her comrades were all rushing to her now, no doubt thinking that she had been seriously wounded by the blast. They too could not help but gawk when they realized she was unharmed. By this point Holly had regained some of her mental fortitude, and with it she ordered her crowding officers aside so that she could take in the sight before her. The opening into the command center revealed an expanse with nothing in it but fire and molten metal. It was a total loss, all of the advanced equipment and systems within it destroyed so that the LEP could not use them to their advantage. Commander Root was on the scene a second later, and after glancing at Holly to make sure she was alright, he looked at the destruction.

"Belenos is certainly not here…"

"Of course not," Holly growled, glaring at the fires. "This isn't where he houses his weapon. Their defense of the command center was always just a ruse, a means of buying time…." She paused, slamming her fist against the wall. "D'arvit! How much time did we give to them?!"

"Not enough for them to win," the Commander said gruffly.

Holly gazed into the fire, the devilish flames making her eyes glint with flecks of crimson and gold. "I hope to the gods that you're right."

 **Project Morrígan, Laconus Headquarters**

The rumble of distant explosions formed a perfect foundation upon which other sounds rose, and the stone walls and ceiling made the reverberations seemingly endless, like the very perfidy of intelligent beings. Machinery of war and science worked smoothly to build up the final phase of Project Morrígan, whose manifestation loomed in the center of the vast chamber. The delivery system—the most advanced smart missile that Laconus could contrive—towered over the fairies who prepared it for launch. It was fueled and programmed for its task, and awaited the payload that it was to spread across the whole world. This payload, V-631, lay ready in fifty separate MIRV devices, which were steadily being loaded into the numerous launch bays along the missile's upper section. One by one they were implanted and primed, and them closed off behind the armored exterior of each compartment. With V-631 and its components having now been made fully functional by Doctor Vale, it was a simply task of loading it. The creation of an entire species' end, the culmination of all of the People's advancement in science, all came together now in that final product, and now like so many weapons before it, it waited for nothing more than the pull of the trigger. A gun against the head of the whole world, a blade poised against the very throat of human kind. Such a wretched aim, a monstrous goal, and yet those who prepared it felt nothing. Their hands continued to pull the strings of undoing, while their hearts and souls did not yield to the profound wrongness of their actions.

Doctor Aoife Vale stood among these characters, overseeing the loading and feeling, all the time, the vibrations of the battle raging everywhere but within the silo. It was as if the whole world was falling apart around her, and there was finality to what she felt. This was an end, and a beginning, and whichever it would be for her personally she did not care. She was ready, as were they all ready, to carry the torch of their duty until her last breath. She watched the loading procedures with cold eyes, and glanced at her watch to check the time.

"Ten minutes…" she whispered. It was all she needed, and how desperately it was needed. She could feel the battles raging, and knew that even ten minutes may not be enough. Seconds could decide everything, and with this on her mind she turned to her old friend, Major Belenos. The Major was overseeing the preparations as well, while at the same time monitoring the battle. He was presently eyeing his datapad, and Aoife accentuated the slight frown on his face with her own ominous tone.

"They may be here before that. They are making astounding gains…"

"That they are…" Belenos said softly, caught up in thought. "Captain Dalriata has fallen, along with his soldiers. They did well to impede our enemy, but not well enough to stop them. Julius and his elite are still in action, and then there's Miss Short…"

"Still alive I see…" Aoife said under her breath as she worked.

Belenos looked up at the missile—at his legacy—and nodded. He did not say anything further, finding no need or desire to do so. How much more he preferred to gaze upon this wonder, this horrific masterpiece, and envision it flying to the heavens like a scepter of the gods. Soon enough, he reasoned, and it would. Only ten minutes, and then it would be unstoppable. Once in the air, nothing could possibly stop the weapon, not even by shooting it down. And once it was up there, no one needed to control it. The LEP could have their little victory against him, but all the same he would have his in the end. He may fall, but as long as he sent forth Project Morrígan, nothing mattered. The missile's dead-hand protocols would ensure that it found its targets, even if Laconus was utterly destroyed.

Belenos watched as one of the twenty remaining MIRVs was inserted into the missile. Just one of those could inundate an entire continent with the virus in a matter of minutes—death on a global scale would follow in but hours. He could not help but gaze upon his weapon and think about humanity and its own pursuit of ultimate power. The mud men had gazed upon the fruits of their labor, the pinnacle of their knowledge, and felt anything but happiness. The power of the atom, the might of its militarized use, struck fear into the hearts of the humans, a fear that had pervaded every inch of their civilization ever since the end of the second world war. Those fools probably regretted creating it, but as with all technologies, there was no putting the genie back in the bottle—there was only escalation, desperation, and madness.

The atomic bomb was a weapon like no other, an unrivaled killer, but it did not distinguish between anyone or anything—man, fairy, nature, the very bacteria in the earth, all would die. But what Belenos beheld, the People's very own mass killer, was a creation far more powerful in its ability to choose its prey, and just as Oppenheimer had gazed upon the terrible success of his work, so did Belenos look at the fruition of his own. "Behold," he whispered, a dreadfully cold glint in his eyes, "I am become death, the destroyer of worlds…"

 **Level A4, Laconus Headquarters**

 _I have to find a way!_ This was all that Holly could think about as she stood in the hallway, amidst all of the destruction and memories of near-death. Alongside her were the rest of the LEP officers who had breached the facility, including Commander Root, who was a foot behind her. She had Foaly on the line, and she was doing exactly as he said, in hopes that he would reveal to them a means of snatching victory from the jaws of defeat—beating Laconus was not a metric of that victory, only stopping their plan was, at least that's how Holly saw it. She had a very angry look on her face as she walked, ever listening to Foaly speak in her ears.

" _I have very little control over the facility, given that they blew up most of the useful things, but I have been able to flush out a number of details. I have bugs in the systems throughout your level, but there is something…something blocking my way upwards. There's more above you, but it is an autonomous system, separate from this one."_ He paused, muttering a curse under his breath. _"It's impressive. I can't even dent it."_

"That has to be it," Holly said, impatiently tapping her fingers against her rifle. "He's above us, that's where his project is. Where else could he launch it from but there?"

" _The elevator system does not go any farther up…"_ Foaly stated in her ear. _"There's a hidden one though, I cannot quite trace it…There, I'm piggybacking in your helmet, Holly. Go right, down that hallway. I'll use your helmet's systems to enhance my scans."_

Holly looked to Root, who nodded. "Alright, let's go for a walk," she said. She walked steadily down the hallway, looking this way and that, searching for any sign of a hidden entrance. Meanwhile Foaly spoke almost constantly, leading her on.

" _Lukewarm…warmer…"_

Holly turned a corner, aiming readily. When she started down this empty stretch, Foaly spoke with an increasing energy, a rising excitement.

" _Warmer…warmer…now you're getting hot…"_

"Seriously, just tell me where it is," Holly said impatiently.

" _You can't rush brilliance, go with the flow."_

Holly rolled her eyes, but said nothing. A few moments later she was nearing the end of the hallway, and that was when Foaly's voice got even more animated.

" _Hotter…hotter than the Commander's temper!"_

"I heard that, jackass," Root growled, walking just behind Holly.

Foaly was too occupied to care about the Commander's rage. Instead he kept pointing Holly towards the wall, and then told her to stop. _"Right there. It has to be there."_

"Let's see," Holly said, looking at the wall. There were no visible breaks in the metal, or anything to indicate an opening. This would present a certain difficulty to more reserved individuals, but Holly was anything but reserved. She took a step back, set her rifle to its highest setting, and fired a controlled burst into the metal. A full minute of shooting was required, but she made a hole, which went in a solid foot of reinforced alloy before reaching an open space beyond. "Bingo," she growled, a deadly grin stretched across her face. She looked over her shoulder, at all the other who were merely standing by, and spoke demandingly. "Don't just stand there! Light it up!"

Fifty rifles were better than one, as was made quite evident. In less than thirty seconds of combined bombardment, the entire wall blocking the elevator shaft was melted into a puddle of glowing slag. Acrid smoke and fumes filled the air, and through it all Holly walked, minding her step amidst the still cooling metal, until she could peer upwards into the shaft itself. She saw nothing but darkness, and suspected as much. The top must have been locked down, and the system made untouchable, leaving no access to the elevator. They would have to improvise. She looked over her shoulder to Commander Root.

"What do you think?"

"We go up," Root stated, nodding towards several of his officers, who quickly went to retrieve as many sets of wings as they could.

Holly nodded, acknowledging the obvious, and looked back to the gloomy interior of the chute. It was obvious that anyone going up there would come face to face with a firing squad, and likely be atomized by a storm of laser fire. Laconus was on its final defense, backed against a wall with no way out, and in such a situation they would fight like monsters to the very end. It was not going to be easy.

While she was staring into the shadows, thinking about ways to improve their chances of success, she was suddenly struck by the memory of the unexploded bomb that had scared her half to death. An idea immediately formed in her mind, rising from the depths of her thoughts and taking shape like a whale ascending to the surface of an ocean. It made her furrow her brow and then smile just a little. "Thank the gods for duds…"

After a short jog and raising a few eyebrows, she was back at the elevator shaft, this time with the unexploded bomb in her hands. Root and his officers were in the process of suiting up with their wings, and when they saw the bomb all of them looked a little unsettled.

"What in Frond's name are you doing?" Root asked, looking at the bomb's depleted timer more than anything.

Holly was already kneeling on the floor, taking apart the interface on the device. "Improvising," she growled, at the same time pulling out her knife and using it to pry open the interior.

"Don't mind if we take a few steps back…" the commander said, to the agreement of his officers. He did not stop her though, because inwardly he knew what she was thinking, and understood as well that she was well trained with regard to improvised explosive devices. He just did not like bombs—of all the ways to die, he hated that the most, being scattered in the wind as dust in an instant. If he had to died, he would die facing an enemy, not by the hands of an impartial piece of machinery. He perceived no honor in it.

Holly, on the other hand, had no real preference. The idea of dying was not something she dwelt on. Instead, she worked on the bomb with her bare hands, sans any professional equipment, and completely reset its timer. A few drops of sweat went down her face as she did so, but that was it. Once finished, she stood up and held the device before her. "It's a shaped charge, probably intended to take out a structural beam. This will do nicely…" She activated her communication link to Haven. "Foaly, can you do something for me?"

" _Depends, how crazy is it?"_

"It's up there, maybe seven out of ten."

The stupid grin on Foaly's face was evident after she explained it to him. _"I'll see what I can do. I aim to impress."_

The plan was simple, and everyone was going in by the seat of their pants. With no way in but one, they had little choice. As with the exterior of the mountaintop, not one of the LEP units outside had reached it; the fighting was still going on out there, mainly between snipers and small groups, and in the air Vinyáya was still cleaning up the remnants of their ships. Holly and those alongside her were on their own.

"I'll be right back," she said as she walked into the hole. Using the wings she had donned, she flew up the dark tunnel with the bomb secured in her vest. When she reached the top she shot her way through the floor of the dormant elevator compartment. The camera mounted on its roof was shot next, rendering them blind; now with her actions unseen, Holly stood up inside the compartment and took the heavy bomb out. The reinforced doors that blocked her path were surely not meant to withstand Laconus' own overkill ordnance.

"Foaly," Holly said as she secured the bomb to the door, "How are things on your end?"

" _Working magic,"_ the centaur replied _. "Actually, it will be quite easy. The hard part is keeping the signals strong despite the countermeasures."_

Finished with the bomb, Holly stood back and eyed it critically. "You can do it, right?"

" _Yes."_

With a nod Holly took a few steps back, and then stepped into the hole in the floor. She plunged down the shaft like a rock, and then activated her wings with only a few seconds to spare. When she emerged into the hallway again, Commander Root was there waiting with the rest of the force, all winged up and waiting.

"You know, Captain, this is not a very conventional method you are proposing," Root growled, as crimson as ever. "However, with our enemies entrenched up there it is worth a shot. Proceed. We'll be right there with you."

The last few preparations were made, and then all that needed to be done was the metaphorical loosing of the arrow. While this happened, the Laconus soldiers high above waited in silence. They knew that the LEP would be coming through that door, so they ensured that they had a formidable defense waiting. A few dozen operatives were spread out across the large room, positioned behind crates and machinery or high above on fixtures or stone outcroppings. To their backs was the massive blast door that would separate their room from Project Morrígan, and it was beginning to close. Soon the LEP's chance to stop them would be gone.

"Don't let a single one of them through!" one of the Laconus officers said to his subordinates. "Protect Project Morrígan with your lives, kill them all."

The fairies, all killers at heart, settled in for the intense moments of waiting that always preceded a battle. Time crawled at a snail's pace as thirty-six rifles pointed at the closed door, and the ones holding them remained perfectly still, disciplined enough to remain static and prepared. A muffled noise began to drift from the closed elevator, to which everyone put their fingers on their triggers. Then, with an astounding suddenness, an explosion went off. The thick metal door bulged outwards before splitting apart, giving way to a wave of fire and destruction. A blast wave knocked over the closest Laconus soldiers, and a wall of smoke consumed nearly half of the room and rose to veil everything in a distorting mist. Amidst all of this came a flurry of motion. The officer in charge of the defense saw something moving in the air, flickers of speeding objects, and yelled for his troops to open fire. Crimson laser shots filled the gloom the next moment, flying upwards into the shadows to strike down what they thought were LEP officers moving on wings. They had the latter half of that assumption right—they were shooting at wings—but that's all there was flying about in the chaos. The LEP flight wings, controlled remotely, went mad like a swarm of wasps, driving the Laconus officers' attention away from the entrance and dividing their numbers. Soon the wings started crashing, exploding all over the place, and it was during this rising chaos that another shadow sped through the smoke, straight as an arrow towards the closing blast door—straight towards Project Morrígan. There were others behind it, LEP officers taking advantage of the bedlam, but this one was way ahead of everything else and behaving with a trademark recklessness. Naturally, it was Holly.

"Out of my way dipshit!" she growled as she flew low over the chaos, swatting an enemy soldier with the butt of her rifle as she flew past him. She rammed through two others, only because she did not want to change her direct trajectory, and then broke through enough of the smoke to see the closing door clearly. Her eyes widened when she noticed that it was almost shut—only a few meters remained before it was impenetrable. _D'arvit! s_ he thought, opening the throttle on her wings and speeding towards the small gap. There was no time for her to wait for her comrades; she needed to get in there, and stop Belenos and his madness. She had no time to think, only to act.

Holly sped towards the closing door with a crazed fury, bursting through the last of the smoke and becoming visible to several enemy soldiers who stood nearby. They were surprised, and that's what got them shot before they could react. Speeding like a bullet, Holly fired into everything that got in her way while keeping her eyes locked on her objective. Seconds meant everything, and at the last of those precious glimpses of time she reached the door. With only a few feet left beneath the metal barrier, she had to literally skid along the smooth alloy floor. Sparks and pieces of her wing gear flew through the air, and the noise of it was almost enough to overpower the sounds of battle. Vibrations shook her to the core, impeding her aim as she slid on her back, but she did not falter. She moved those lase few meters with a fierce glare on her face—one in which fear had no place—and passed right under the falling blast door. Her helmet scraped the descending barrier, almost cracking, and the next moment she was inside the silo room, speeding out of control.

"D'arvit!" she cursed as she slammed into a large metal container. The sudden halt jarred her whole body, but her mind kept focused, thus saving her life. She did not waste time looking back or soothing the pains, instead she got to her feet and threw herself over another container. A shower of laser shots tore through the air as she did this, obliterating the spot she had been previously and following her as she retreated. One shot, glowing a sickly red, almost hid her in the ear as she hunkered down behind her cover, but then they stopped.

It was at this moment that Holly, sitting with her back against cold metal, looked upon the massive blast door. Only an inch was left beneath it, and in seconds it was gone, opportunity closing with a deep, ominous impact. She stared at it for a moment, her face lined by both determination and wariness. No one had made it through but her. She was on her own. Once again she had to face her enemy through no other power than her own strength, and her strength was waning.

 _You can do this,_ she told herself, holding her pulse rifle close and thinking quickly. She took in her surroundings, noting that the room was four times larger than the last one, truly monstrous in scale, its ceiling and walls all stone and a plethora of equipment, machines, and other assets organized throughout it. It was an assembly room, likely where Laconus had built Project Morrígan. A glace over her shoulder, towards the far end of the room, revealed to her that yet another room was beyond, through a large opening in the stone walls—with no door to seal it. That must have been were Belenos and his weapon resided. It was there that she had to go, but as she quickly realized, it was only possible if she went through a veritable army first. She glanced again, trying to ascertain her enemy's positions, and received a very prompt response.

Laser shots came from three directions, hammering her position and giving her no room to return fire. She got as low as she could, gritting her teeth and swearing as shots tore through the metal container and burned her as they passed by. It was utter madness that she was in the middle of. She needed to get out of there, or she would die.

Cursing her enemies, she blind fired over her laser-marked refuge, spreading neutrino shots all over the place. It was a desperate attempt that did not work, as none of her shots hit a foe, and the display of desperation only served to encourage her attackers. Dozens of Laconus soldiers were closing in, many of them congregated directly in front of her no more than twenty meters away. They intensified their assault.

"Shit, shit!" Holly rasped, feeling the heat of dozens of laser charged flying around her. Molten metal from her deteriorating refuge flew through the air and spattered on her attire, burning before cooling, and more and more destruction seemed to mount on top of it, endless and unremitting. Was there no way out of this? Were there none at all? A part of Holly shuddered, thinking that she had just willingly flown herself into a slaughterhouse. But her inner core, her heart of hearts, remained strong, and it was by that strength that she steeled herself and returned fire. More shots came in response, from almost all directions. Several enemies became visible to her right, and she fired on them as they fired on her. She rolled on the ground to avoid their shots and hit them multiple times, dropping them where they stood, and then furiously took off her bulky set of wings. Throwing the wings to her left to draw the enemy's attention, she then burst into action rightwards, throwing herself through the air while firing madly at those stupid enough to reveal themselves. A hail of shots came at her a second later, and through them she ran, somehow surviving. Behind another large metal container she stopped, and then, as she breathed raggedly, she glanced upwards. She noticed that there was a large crane arm in the room, likely to move the missile components. There was no time to do anything but shoot.

Braving the enemy attacks, Holly fired upwards at the crane, using a high setting to melt its main supports. It shuddered and then plummeted into the ranks of the Laconus officers, scattering them and ending their multi-front attack. Holly seized the moment, running parallel to the chaos as noise and destruction seemed the shake the very fabric of reality. Faster and faster she ran, dodging crimson laser and firing from the hip more than from the shoulder. She hit a few enemies during the short sprint, and then, reaching the far corner of the room, she pushed herself the last few meters towards another place of refuge. The enemy was waiting there, just around a corner, but she moved recklessly, diving midair into their line of sight and catching them off guard. Five of them fell to her shots before she even touched the ground, and when she did she rolled and came up to her feet in an instant, coming nearly face to face with another foe. This one, a goblin, raised his blaster and tried to shoot her in the stomach, but she sidestepped the deadly shot and jabbed him in the face with the barrel of her rifle. The goblin recovered quickly, but fast enough to avoid the burst of neutrino shots that struck him in the chest.

"And stay down!" Holly rasped. A laser shot slammed into the stone wall next to her, casting fragments about and forcing her to move once again. Hunted by yet another group of killers, she had no choice but to run. The convoluted mess of the room's rows of containers and missile components made for intense hunting grounds, in which one could harass many by using speed and wit; numbers versus desperate flight. That's what Holly did, shooting one here, another there, all while moving defensively. She only stopped when she had positioned herself in the corner, with walls to two sides and a large piece of steel giving her protection. There she waited, her back against cold metal and her hands clutching her steaming pulse rifle.

She waited for a minute. No attacks came. The enemy, it would seem, was being more cautious—sly, more deadly. However, she did not panic; she remained silent and still, pressed against steel, flanked by stone, hunted by monsters. The muffled sounds of combat could be heard from the other side of the blast door, where Root and the others were fighting. The comparative silence of the room she was in was ominous, unnatural, and made her sweat as she waited. Her enemies, however many remained, were closing in on her with slow, purposeful steps. The only thing was, she anticipated it, and instead of waiting for them to come to her she burst out from behind the metal barrier, shooting madly. Another enemy fell to her, and five more started shooting from two directions. Through a hail of laser charges Holly scrambled, shooting desperately while moving from one piece of protection to the next. A trail of destruction was in her wake, everything she used for cover laden with molten holes, and when she finally came to a halt she glanced back to see that the air was hazed by the smoke and fumes of burning metal. That obscuration would do nicely.

Again, like before, silence took over. Holly did not know how many enemies were left, but she could guess based on the glimpses she had caught and the positioning of their forces. She estimated six left, and as she crouched behind her refuge, she listened intently for their approach. Slight sounds, almost imperceptible, formed within her mind an image of their strategy. Taking a deep breath, Holly solidified a mental picture of this, and then looked up. Just in front of her was a smaller crane, and there was a load already affixed to the end of its heavy cable. She looked up higher, noting its position, and then began to realize something. A crazy idea came to her, and it was the only viable idea she could muster. At the same time she heard the distinct sound of grenades being primed. It was now or never, and Holly, thinking intensely and preparing herself, did not hesitate. She could not afford to make a mistake, and she had to be fast. This would be all or nothing. She slung her pulse rifle over her back and drew her neutrino.

Keeping in a crouch, she rushed towards the crane and jumped up on the steel beams that were attached to its cable. With one hand she held on to the cable, and with the other she held her blaster. It was at that moment that he enemy attacked all at once, throwing grenades into her midst and laying down suppressive fire. Glaring resolutely, Holly shot the cable beneath her, cutting the load from the crane. With a loud bang it fell, and the crane's counterbalance system, being calibrated to hold such a heavy load, suddenly found itself with virtually none at all. All of the sudden Holly was being pulled up, rapidly rising through the chaos, and it was then that the grenades went off. Fire and destruction engulfed everything beneath her, and through a cloud of smoke she rose, pulled up high above the madness. Her eyes fell upon her enemies as she rose above them, and with her weapon outstretched she fired, striking them down with impossible speed and accuracy. Everything happened rapidly, and in her adrenaline-infused state Holly perceived everything differently, as if she were able to aim and fire in slow motion; from one to the next she fired, dropping them before they could react. When she reached the top of the crane and came to a halt, she hung over a scene of improbable carnage. Bodies were everywhere, and she could barely believe it. Her breathing was rapid and her whole body was rigid with energy, but motionless she hung there, staring into the haze and realizing that it was over.

"Holy shit…" she rasped, lowering her weapon, "That actually worked…"

For a few more seconds she observed, wary of any possible remnants of the enemy force. When nothing happened, she looked once more towards the far end of the room. The archway through the stone could be easily seen from so high, but within she could only see a shadowy gloom. There was no point in gazing upon it. Holstering her neutrino, the elf descended the crane and walked through the devastated battleground, picking up a few grenades from her unconscious enemies as she went. When she was before the archway that led to silo, she paused to steel herself. _Here we go._ The first step felt heavier than most, and once it was done she was moving forward with no intention of turning back. She did not even glance behind herself to look upon the blast door that kept Root and the others trapped outside. Another line was crossed, another Rubicon traversed—her die was irreversibly cast the moment she entered that ominous room.

Shadows danced in the ominous expanse as she walked through the archway and stood before the impressive sight of the silo. It was a large room, circular and bereft of any real clutter, at least as far as she could tell from the entrance. She did not stand and gawk, however, as she could hear the sounds of activity and see the shadows of others hidden behind the pillars and large pieces of machinery that ringed the room. They were all in the center, where the floor descended into a deeper area. Holly could not see into it from where she stood, and with great care for her silence she moved forward, taking up a position behind one of the large metal support beams that ringed the launch area.

Crouching down and keeping her rifle ready, the elf steeled a discreet glance down into the main section of the room. There she saw the looming presence of Project Morrígan, the missile that housed it standing like a pillar in the exact middle of the room. _There it is_ … she thought, clutching her rifle readily and feeling anger roil within her heart. To behold the weapon that Belenos intended to wipe out billions of lives with was truly an infuriating thing; it was a spectacle of the utter darkness that could reign in the hearts of the living. Another glance revealed to her the mastermind himself, standing alongside his subordinates as they worked to prep the missile for launch. Holly's eyes narrowed out of spite. _And there you are…_

She could spend all day hating the sight of that elf, but she dared not waste any time feeling angry. Instead she set her eyes again on the missile. Its side compartments—all launch tubes for the MIRVs—were closed, apparently loaded to the brim. There was not much time until it was launched, as she could tell by the demeanor of those down there. Regarding the missile, Holly thought of ways to stop it, and quickly noted the position of the weapon's fuel cells. A high-powered neutrino charge could feasibly penetrate them, if there were not shields or reactive plating guarding it, which she suspected. Nevertheless, she had to try.

Not thinking about why Belenos was not reacting to the combat that had taken place just outside, Holly shouldered her pulse rifle and lined its sights up with the most vulnerable spot she could find. It would be an easy shot, elementary, and even if it did not outright destroy the missile's flight capabilities it may at least buy her time until Root and the others arrived. With these feeble hopes sewn to her mind, she aimed around the pillar and rested her finger on the trigger.

"Party's over, assholes..."

She was about to shoot when she noticed something—a shimmer in the air, a slight report of something whirring—and then everything turned upside down. A sudden deluge of laser fire erupted from thin air down below, careening up at her like a fiery spear, and as it was discharged the screaming sound of some sort of cannons filled the air. Holly ducked and lunged out of the way desperately, feeling as the storm of laser charges struck behind her. They tore apart the metal beam she had been hiding behind, but they did not stop there—the firing adjusted and followed her, even though she should have been out of sight. "D'arvit, what the hell?!" she rasped, sprinting around the circumference of the room as crimson shots tore apart everything around her. She stopped behind one of the cavern's integral supports, and then the shooting stopped as well. Breathing heavily and filled with fear, Holly stood dead still and waited. When nothing happened she took out her spotting scope, using it to get a stream of footage around the corner. Nothing appeared through it, but then she saw the shimmering again, and realized that there was something large hidden in plain sight. Again she hid, anticipating an attack, and again when nothing happened she brainstormed. Whatever that was, she needed to reveal it. She instinctively knew the sort of shielding it was using, at least a good guess, and the way to disrupt it was easy enough. All she needed was something the bend the light around it, distort its barrier and short circuit it.

 _This better work._ Holly aimed upwards at the overhead lights, which were large and ringed the ceiling high above. She struck one that hung right above the shimmering form, blasting it to pieces and sending shards of glass and material raining down in a glittering cloud. It fell upon the shimmering form, and as it did the air around it became distorted and odd. A shape began to appear, and then, all of the sudden, it was revealed completely, shimmering into view like a nightmare materializing out of the blackness of sleep. When she saw it, Holly could not help but stare. _Oh gods, why the hell does it have to be one of those?_

What she was looking at was a machine, a weapon of war that the People had devised but never truly put into use—another shelved experiment, another forgotten monster of scientific genius. It had a spider-like look to it, but it was anything but frail and sleek. Standing on six thickly armored legs, it had a boxy segmented body bearing ridiculous amounts of armor, reactive plating, and countermeasures. At its front was its _head_ , embedded with impressive sensory equipment and protruding two front-mountain manipulators, which were clawed arms with laser cannons built into their centers. Three glowing crimson eyes—more sensors—gleamed upon its head, and there were other sensors on all sides of it, making it virtually all-seeing. Other weapons were built into its segmented body, with missile pods, cannons, and smaller anti-personnel energy weapons stationed at all feasible weak points. It was a walking tank, a _neural tank_ to be more exact. Holly knew about them well enough, but had never seen one in use. It was a very efficient weapon system, controlled by a single pilot who used a neural interface and enhanced AI assistance in order to operate the countless features of the machine. There were no windows or vulnerable spots in its design, the pilot protected in the center of its armored body, making matters worse. Holly remembered the design from an old defunct company, Kabishai Industries, which had once tried to sell such designs to the LEP. Clearly Laconus had gotten their hands on one and made some improvements, and it made sense that they would use it to act as a final line of defense to protect Project Morrígan.

Standing with her back against the thick metal support pillar, Holly wracked her brain for ideas. At the same time the tank waited down below, perfectly silent and still, like a statue as it kept its guns aimed at her location. Meanwhile, at the center of the room beside Laconus' incarnation of moral darkness, Major Belenos watched calmly. He was looking at where Holly had hidden, a cold expression on his face and his right hand instinctively close to drawing his blaster. Around him were his few remaining officers and his team of technicians, all looking warily towards Holly's position with weapons handy. No one moved, no one spoke—time seemed to stop in this treacherous moment, as if the weight of the world had crushed the sands of time's passage. Belenos motioned for his technicians to get back to work, while still gazing up at the pillar Holly hid behind. The neural tank loomed to his right, and in his earpiece he heard the voice of its pilot, Aoife Vale.

" _It's her again…Captain Short…"_

"Indeed…" Belenos stated, his hands now clasped behind his back. He made no preamble, no longwinded utterances to his tenacious enemy. He simply stared at where Holly was, his emerald eyes bereft of kindness, and spoke calmly to his soldiers. "Kill her."

Aoife, who was deep inside the protective confines of the tank, nodded resolutely. The next moment the tank's two front cannons opened fire, spraying a barrage of laser charges to the left of the pillar Holly hid behind. The barrage forced Holly to hide completely, denying her even the chance to return fire. When it finally stopped she became aware of the sound of the tank moving, and it was almost too late when she saw it literally jump into view from her far left. Almost falling over herself, Holly ran for her life, dodging a storm of shots and running towards another pillar. She paused there and returned fire, riddling the tank with shots. They had no effect, literally diffusing upon its armor and energy shield, and meanwhile Aoife responded in kind, letting loose with the heavy cannons once again. Amidst a hail of destructive attacks Holly ran, throwing herself to the ground before scrambling towards one of the few convoluted parts of the room. There she hid behind a large metal container, and waited. She could hear the sound of her enemy approaching, as certain as the distant rumble of a coming storm, and in the otherwise quiet expanse those sound reverberated ominously. As this sound—the sound of her doom—got closer and closer, Belenos' calm voice spoke out through the smoke-laced air.

"Why come here now, Captain? What do you hope to accomplish on your own?"

Holly barred her teeth, her anger surfacing to replace her fearful countenance. "Someone has to stop you. Someone has to put an end to your madness…"

"You cannot stop me now, Holly. I will not allow it."

"You'll be disappointed then, you sick genocidal bastard."

Belenos was unfazed, naturally calm despite her vituperative words. "I'll have you know that my parents were happily married, so your use of that derogatory term is rather ill placed."

"So too are your beliefs."

There was a momentary silence as Belenos paused, likely to sigh a little. "I was forced to end the search for you earlier, due to Root's arrival," he continued. "That probably saved your life, inadvertently, and I was content to let you live if that were the case. You could have always just stopped this little war of yours. You never had to go this far, no one, not even Julius, expected that much from you. And yet you kept coming. Now here you are, flirting with death once again. And for what?"

Holly stared blankly ahead, listening intently as the neural tank moved closer. "You know what I am fighting for. You knew that long ago, before my time."

"Still you carry the burden of her legacy, even though it will destroy you…"

Holly was going to make another reply, but she stopped herself, knowing that it was only dividing her attention. This choice saved her life, because not a second later there was an explosion of motion and a sudden presence to her right. The tank literally jumped into view, landing with a deafening noise no more than twenty meters from her, and it opened fire just as she was trying to dive for cover. Laser charges filled the air once again, and Holly cursed as she escaped around a corner. The entire container she had been behind became a smoldering mass of hole-riddled metal, and through the smoke, like a demon out of hell, the neural-tank stalked.

"D'arvit, this thing is really…" Holly primed several grenades—explosive ones from her enemies—and tossed them towards the tank. "…getting on my nerves!"

Several explosions engulfed the area, consuming the tank with a cloud of fire. Holly did not wait around to see if it worked; instead she moved away and focused on the missile. She aimed and fired at its fuel cells, using the maximum setting on her weapon, thinking that it would do something. The shots hit, but they were stopped before they touched the missile, revealing a rippling barrier of energy surrounding it. Holly felt her hopes drain. It had a shield. _Not good, not good!_ she thought as she moved again. Behind her came the telltale roar of the tank, the massive machine vaulting out of the smoke and landing with a skidding halt in front of her, blocking her from getting any closer to Belenos and Project Morrígan.

 _"It would be wise for you to keep your attention on me, Captain,"_ Aoife said through the tank's loudspeaker.

"That goes without saying," Holly growled, rolling another grenade right beneath the tank. The explosion didn't even faze it, but it allowed for Holly to move. Running away was not an option where she was standing, so she moved diagonally towards the tank and jumped up on one of its manipulator arms, narrowly avoiding a burst of cannon fire. She vaulted right up on top of the machine's body, and landed right where the hatch was located, every move she made now one of desperation. It was noticeable that the shield did not stop her from doing this. _It only stops external attacks…_ She grabbed on to the metal and held on with one hand, while grabbing her last three grenades. If she was right, the shield encompassed the tank and left a half-foot gap between as a buffer zone. She primed the grenades and attached them magnetically to the entry hatch.

Laser shots grazed her as she did this. Several of Belenos' officers were shooting at her now. She tried to get a shot off on them, but before she could aim one of the tank's arms came rushing at her. The impact was devastating, striking her in the helmet and shattering its visor. She went flying head over heels, through the smoke-tinged air and into one of the pillars at the edge of the room. It knocked the breath out of her lungs, and made her wheeze as she lay on the ground. The pain was terrible, and as she writhed on the ground she tasted blood in her mouth. _Not yet...I'm not done yet…_ Shakily she tried to get up, standing on weakened legs, and when she looked up she saw Aoife's tank still down below, aiming right at her. That was when the grenades went off.

With the shield barrier as it was, the grenades exploded inside an invisible wall, thus their entire blast force was contained and concentrated around every inch of the neural tank. One moment the tank was visible, and the next there was a fiery explosion in the exact shape of the tank. Smoke filled the air a second later, black and grey, and as Holly struggled to her feet she watched it warily. The smoke moved like a living creature, swirling and churning as if in a state of rage. Its blacks and greys melded together, and Holly stared into it, hoping against hope.

 _Come on…stay down…_

Something moved, and Holly blinked. The next moment the neural tank burst out of the smoke, flying right towards her. She could not even react it moved so fast. The tank flew right into her, crashing into the pillar and shattering it to pieces while at the same time swatting her aside with its powerful arms. Again Holly found herself on her back, wracked by agony, and through blurred, spotted vision she perceived the monstrous machine looming over her. She tried to get up, but the breath had been knocked out of her, and by the time she regained her strength it was too late. One of the tank's clawed arms grabbed her by the face, its appendages wrapping around her ruined helmet and then lifting her off the ground. Holly wheezed for breath as she stared down the barrels of the arm's laser cannon, and she could feel the pressure of its claws against her head. She was brought up until she hung ten feet over the ground, and then slammed against the stone wall. Aoife's unnaturally cold voice spoke right in front of her, through the machine's three-eyed veneer.

 _"A brave action, Captain, but it was ultimately pointless. You cannot hope to win."_

Holly was terrified, and yet she found enough strength to speak defiantly. "Not…while I'm still…breathing…!"

Aoife increased the pressure on Holly's helmet, and spoke heartlessly. _"That won't be for much longer…"_

The barrels of the laser cannon began to rotate, and Holly was staring right into them. She saw death coming, in all of its irreversible power; the barrels of the cannon seemed to grow larger and larger, until she was staring into an abyss. It dawned on her then that there was nothing she could do. All of her tenacity, courage, and determination meant nothing in the face of this; even she, despite her luck and impossible feats, could not escape this time. Everyone ran out of luck eventually, and this was her time, apparently. _Oh gods no…_ she thought, staring with wide, fear-filled eyes. That was it. She was going to die.

Staring into death's unfeeling countenance, Holly did not hear, think, or feel anything else. But then something happened, just at the right moment, as if the gods suddenly changed their mind about her fate. There was a deep rumble, followed by an appalling noise. The entire wall to her right suddenly exploded, stone and fragments flying through the air along with clouds of dust. A deluge of neutrino fire screamed out of the chaos, hammering into the neural tank, and it was followed by a burst from a heavy plasma launcher. Aoife was caught off guard and dropped Holly to respond to the new threat, and as she did the plasma beam slammed into her shields and pushed her back, forcing her to retreat. She fired a burst of laser and a few missiles into the gloom, but it seemingly did nothing, because another burst of superhot plasma careened into her, almost knocking the tank off its legs. Aoife pulled the tank back, jumping down and placing herself between her new foes and Belenos, while at the same time firing steady bursts of fire.

All of this happened in a blur for Holly, who fell hard on the metal floor and lay there in a daze. She saw laser shots flying above and around her, and felt the tremor of explosions, but she could do nothing to get up and help herself. A shadow appeared over her, and she heard a voice—a gruff, familiar voice. She blinked rapidly and tried to regain her senses, and as they slowly returned she saw clearly the face of her commander. Julius Root stood over her, holding one of Laconus' portable plasma cannons over his shoulder with one arm while the other extended towards her. He had a furious look about him, one that inspired and terrorized at the same time, and with a backdrop of laser fire and destruction he took on a very iconic image, perhaps one that had not been seen for a hundred years. His voice cut through her dazed mind.

"Are you alright? Can you hear me?"

Holly stared up at him, and managed to croak a response. "I…I think I'll make it…" She paused, noting that the hole in the wall was not even close to the one she had come through. "How did you get through to here?"

"There is always a back door," Root growled, bending over to help her up, "And in the off chance that there is not, you make one."

They clasped hands, and Root pulled her to her feet. At the same time he used his magic to heal her, bringing her back from the brink of unconsciousness. She swayed a little as this happened, dizzy and nearly overcome by the sudden turn of events, but like always she quickly got a hold of herself, her soldier's senses snapping her back on track. She rested against the pillar for a few moments, even as death whizzed by only a foot to each side; she needed a moment to gather herself. When she looked up at Root again he was holding her rifle, and with a firm countenance he extended it to her.

"Are you going to see this through to the end, Captain?"

Holly looked at her weapon, then her commander—his inspiring presence was like a fire. A slight smile came to her face in spite of all of the uncertainty and fear within her heart. "Your godsdamn right." She took her weapon and checked it over, and then held it readily. Root merely nodded, his focus not only on her now, but the rest of the battle that raged around them.

They were now standing amidst the fierce firefight, safe behind one of the pillars. The rest of Root's elite force was either in similar positions or maintaining fire from within the protection of the previous room. With the neural tank firing constantly at them all, it was almost impossible to make any headway, but this did not seem to faze Root, who stood tall and certain with his back against the pillar.

"We need to neutralize that tank first and foremost," he said gruffly. "But we also need to get closer to Belenos. We need to divide them."

Holly was thinking as she stood alongside the grizzled commander. Her previous encounter with the neural tank had revealed a lot to her about how it worked, and as she thought about it amidst the chaos, a theory began to crystallize in her mind. It quickly became a likelihood that she would be willing to act on—she needed to act on it now.

"Sir," she said, getting Root's attention. "Allow me to deal with the tank."

Any lone officer wanting to take on a machine like that would have been deemed insane—any officer but Holly. Nevertheless, Root frowned and looked at her seriously. "Are you certain? It almost killed you before."

"I am," she replied, a slight, dangerous smile tugging at her mouth. "I have an idea. I think it will work." When Root said nothing for a moment she beseeched him. "Trust me. I know what I am doing this time. I will not make the same mistakes."

The Commander nodded, seemingly convinced. Perhaps his belief in Holly's abilities was not all that tainted by his love for traditional methods; perhaps he approved of her unorthodoxy. He took the large plasma cannon that he was holding and handed it to her. "Any experience with one of these?"

"Enough," Holly said, taking the heavy weapon and leaving her pulse rifle attached to her sling. "I will draw its attention. I'm going left."

"And we'll go right," Root stated firmly. He motioned to his officers, who were all hunkered down behind the pillars. "Deploy countermeasures. We're going in!"

All at once, thirty LEP officers fired munitions of various types into the space between them and the neural tank. Smoke grenades, stun grenades, and electromagnetic distortion grenades all did their part, exploding in unison and throwing up a multi-layered diversion that was enough to keep the tank busy for a few precious moments. Everyone burst into action, and Holly, moving on her own in the opposite direction, thought intensely about what she had to do. It was crazy, but there was a rational core to it. The neural tank had a powerful shield, and after her use of grenades on it she knew that it was not unidirectional, but restrictive from both sides. How, then, did it fire its weapons through it? It was simple, because it clearly didn't. The shield was likely designed to open around the weapon points, or perhaps the weapons were designed to open it, but regardless it meant that when the tank was firing it had gaps in its otherwise impenetrable armor—gaps that Holly could exploit. This was her theory, and she believed she was right—she did not dwell on the possibility of being wrong.

With smoke clogging the area below, Holly moved around the circumference of the room, keeping to the pillars. Then, at the right point, she moved down into the area where the neural tank had been positioned. The smoke was clearing, and the tank was still there, recovering from the disruption grenades which had scrambled its external sensors. As she approached it, Holly noticed that it was turning its attention towards Root and the others, who were making a push against Belenos' few remaining foot soldiers on the right side. _Not on my watch, you crazy bitch,_ she thought, shouldering the plasma cannon and firing.

The concentrated burst of superhot plasma careened into the side of the neural tank, stopping at its shields but nevertheless applying a mighty kinetic punch. The tank was pushed to the side, its attacks on the LEP forces halted by the need to keep itself upright. Holly crouched behind something and fired again and again, hitting the tank over and over and forcing it to turn towards her. When it did, she stopped shooting and grinned. "It would be wise for you to keep your attention on me, Doctor," she growled, mimicking Aoife's line. She fired another burst of devastating plasma to rub in her point, and then she heard the pilot's voice speak out.

 _"You are really starting to piss me off, Captain. That is not a wise decision on your part."_

The tank opened fire, shooting a fusillade of powerful laser shots towards Holly, who still stood up aiming directly at it. _Come on, just like you planned…_ she kept aiming despite the inbound attack, and then, at the last moment, fired a single shot at the tank's blazing cannons. However, Aoife turned the machine just a little, making the attack hit the shields instead. "Shit!" Holly rasped, throwing herself to the ground and covering her head as laser tore apart everything around her. She crawled and then broke into a crouching sprint, going lower into the room, where a number of pieces of machinery and containers provided some refuge. She hid behind one, only to have it blow up nearly in her face. Rolling head over heels she slammed into the ground, dropping her plasma cannon. Aoife was right on top of her, closing in with the frontal guns of her tank rotating and glowing with charged energy.

 _"You can't keep this up forever, Captain,"_ Aoife growled. _"Something has to give, that's how it always is."_

Holly rolled to the side, dodging a burst of cannon fire. With a pained expression she got up and grabbed the plasma weapon as she ran. Behind her followed the dreadful neural tank, the sound of its charged weapons taunting her with their promise of oblivion. _D'arvit, d'arvit, d'arvit!_ Holly thought as she ran amidst a hail of destruction—everything around her seemed to get blown to pieces, yet somehow, for some ridiculous reason, she was unscathed. Again she came to a halt behind a piece of machinery, and once again she turned and fired. This time she struck the tank on the head, pushing it back and eliciting an angry curse from Aoife. The tank shot forward, moving incredibly fast, tearing through everything in its path and firing madly with its guns. Holly dodged to the side, and hit it again, nearly tipping it over. Then she retreated, moving back until a hundred feet separated them.

"I've gotta finish this," she rasped, breathing heavily. To her right raged a battle, with Root and the LEP officers taking on the remnants of Laconus' soldiers. Belenos was still there, overseeing the preparations of his genocidal weapon, and when Holly glanced in his direction she saw that one of the soldiers close to him was aiming at her. A laser shot tore towards her, filling her view with red, and at the same time a missile from the tank struck her hiding place. She threw herself out of the way of the former, but the latter sent her tumbled across the floor until she came to a rest on her back. She had dropped her weapon—it lay a few feet to her left—and now she beheld Aoife's tank looming in the distance.

 _"You're dead, Holly Short!"_ Aoife yelled, using the tank's powerful legs to launch it into the air towards her target.

Holly saw it coming during a surreal moment of slowness, her whole world condensing until only the incoming tank and the weapon to her left existed. Aoife wanted to kill her, either by shooting her or crushing her alive, and Holly had no time to move. The two frontal lasers on the tank's head rotated and fired, and Holly, gritting her teeth and nearly screaming out of desperation, grabbed the plasma cannon and brought it to bear. Crimson laser shots were flying towards her, and she aimed right at them—right down the stream and into the firing cannon. She did not think, she did not speak, she only aimed and shot, pulling the trigger and feeling the recoil as the heavy gun fired. The beam of plasma—a luminous blue—flew up to meet the midair tank, cutting through the stream of crimson fire and reaching its mark in seconds. Holly watched as her single, desperate shot met its mark. With the shield down for the laser to fire, the plasma beam tore right into the laser cannon and melted through everything in its path. The neural tank was pierced end to end by the superhot plasma, and all of the sudden it seemed to lose control. But regardless of this, it was still falling towards her. With a deafening crash and an explosion of fire, the tank landed on the metal ground and blew to pieces, casting fire and smoke into the air and shaking the very earth.

There was nothing but destruction in the midst of the fires that burned in its wake. The wreck of the tank, overturned and broken apart, lay motionless within its glowing decay, its cannons silent and its legs lifeless; another dead machine. The blackest of smoke churned in the air around it, and along with the fires that burned it seemed that nothing could have possibly survived. But then, through that impenetrable veil of doom, a shadow emerged. Holly Short stepped out of the deadly fumes, choking and gasping for breath. She fell to her knees, and stared at the destruction behind her. She did not know how to feel, but she was alive, somehow. The wreck of the neural tank belched smoke and flame not too far from her, and she watched it, wondering what had become of Aoife. Then a noise came from it. Its top hatch opened, and a smoke-veiled figured fell out of it and shakily got to its feet.

Holly watched as Aoife stumbled from the wreck and limped through the smoke towards the center of the room—towards her and, a little further, Belenos. She seemed aimless, thoughtless, teetering on the edge of collapse, and when she emerged from the obscuring haze she was right before Holly. Aoife's luminous golden eyes looked right past her, into nothingness, as if she was not seeing anything around her or even perceiving the world she existed in. Holly stared back at her, seeing the blood soaking her uniform and the jagged piece of metal embedded in her upper chest. She stared, and did nothing, as Aoife stumbled past her. Blood ran down her and left a trail of crimson, which glistened in the firelight.

"I…" Aoife croaked, her sightless eyes wide and filled with tears. "I…I can't...feel..." she trailed off, her voice ending with a pitiful gurgle as her life seeped away. She fell right beside Holly, landing on her face and pushing the jagged metal clean through her body. Her golden eyes, staring half-closed into nothingness, glistened with tears even as the intelligent glimmer left them forever; sorrow and pain lingered after the spirit was gone, like embers beneath the soot of a dead fire. Her body twitched as one last gurgling breath escaped, and then she was still.

Holly stared at the dead elf, watching as blood streamed from her mouth and her wound to form a pool on her left side. She stared for what felt like a lifetime, but then tore her gaze away, refusing to look at what she had done. She did not know how to feel about it, not at all; she was confused, surprised, and sick to her stomach. But it had been necessary—and yet necessities are so painful, so terrible in their brutal reality. Holly stood on her feet beside one who would never stand again, and looked through the smoke and firelight towards the center of the room. Through the smoke and chaos she saw Belenos—he had been watching the whole time.

The Major did not even seem to acknowledge Holly's presence. He simply stared at Aoife's motionless body and did nothing. He said something in a whisper, too soft to hear, and then looked slowly over to Holly. There was something profound in his emerald eyes, a sorrow and pain like no other, and yet, as Holly beheld them, she did not see any of the usual resultant anger or hate. They seemed hollowed out, empty, and with an equally hollow voice he spoke.

"Must you take everything from me again?"

He was swift in his action, drawing his blaster and firing it before Holly could even blink. A flash of crimson, a dash of speeding light, and a powerful laser shot struck her right in the heart. Backwards she fell, gasping out of fear and surprise, and alongside Aoife's dead body she crashed, sliding a little in the other's thick, coagulating blood. She smelled smoke and saw it curling from her chest, where a hole had torn through her vest. It was apparent to her that she was doomed, and as she realized this she stared up towards the top of the cavern, where the large silo doors were opening. It revealed a faintly crimson sky of the dawn, with a few clouds moving upon it, giving off a light rain. These little droplets fell into the silo, glittering as they dropped amidst the glowing fires and the flashes of weapons. It was beautiful, and Holly thought that it was her last sight in life. But then, as she expected her life to fade, her shock wore off and she began to realize that she felt no pain at all. The blinked, confused, and then shakily brought her left hand to her chest, fearfully feeling where the laser shot had struck. It was then that she felt the bulge in her vest's chest pocket. It was Aoife's blaster. She had stuffed it in the pocket while ago, and had actually forgotten about it. Now she was reminded in the most profound of ways.

Holly opened the pocket and took out the weapon, still lying on her back as she did so. A look at it revealed a deep hole in its side, one that did not penetrate to the other end—and with the density of the weapon's material, it represented a shot that would have pierced Holly ten times over. She stared for a moment, wondering at the odds, and then felt an odd feeling that included the presence of the dead elf beside her. It was ironic beyond words, poetic even, that her life had been saved by a thing such as that, and inadvertently by the elf whose blood she lay in.

She sat up slowly, her eyes on the space before her. Belenos had forgotten about her, going back to his work. Meanwhile the rest of the room was awash with fighting—somehow more remnants of Laconus had joined the fight, stopping Root's offensive and reducing the firefight to a brutal slugfest. Holly was in the middle of it, and she had lost all of her weapons save her neutrino and Aoife's laser pistol. She set the latter down beside the elf's body, with the respect that was due to all of the deceased, and then drew her neutrino. Her eyes stared through the smoky battleground, through the glittering rainfall and the devilish flames. With purpose, she walked forward.

Neutrino shots tore through the haze, striking down several Laconus soldiers who were protecting the control area around the launch site. Holly was past them in a second, moving steadily with a ready aim. She saw another enemy and fired again, dropping him where he stood, and that was when she caught sight of Belenos, standing with a blaster in one hand and a small device in the other. He seemed to be waiting for something, from one of his technicians, who was crouched down beside a small control panel trying to do his work amidst a storm of weapons fire. Holly glared fiercely. "No you don't…" She aimed and fired, but not before Belenos saw her. He dove to the side, firing a quick shot from the hip that nearly took her face off, and then both of them were caught in a one on one gunfight. To Holly's surprise, her enemy was rather calm about her not being dead.

"Another stroke of fortune has favored you, hasn't it Captain?"

"You could say that," she growled, crouched behind one of the desks.

"Fortune favors the bold…but so does the untimely death…" the other stated thoughtfully, before shooting a perfect shot clean through the desk she was hiding behind. Holly had jerked to the left at the last second, and now felt a burn on the side of her neck.

 _Shit that was close…_

"You should have stayed dead," her enemy said coldly, "now I will shoot somewhere a little more permanent."

Holly's face contorted with frustration as she felt the pain of her burned skin. "You can try," she growled. "I'll stop you even if it kills me. The People deserve a better legacy than this!"

Belenos sounded a little perturbed. "And what will you give them instead? Further repression? Further indignity? Or perhaps their very destruction? No, Holly, you are wrong. This…this is the only legacy that the People can have now, the only one that will allow them to look upon the past a thousand years from now and be thankful. Without it, we will join our ancestors in defeat and oblivion. We will fade away, and all will be lost."

Holly gritted her teeth as a few laser shots tore away part of the metal she hid behind, but despite the danger she was in, she voiced her perceived truth resolutely for her enemy to hear. "You are wrong."

"I wish I was. I would never have pursued this path if there was another way. Humanity has left me with no choice."

Chaos held the whole world in its palm as the two of them waited. Raindrops fell from the lightening sky, glittering in the firelight like little gemstones before they pattered upon the cold metal of the rival's weapons. Tranquility, madness, and death seemed to go hand in hand. There was no peace until it was all over.

"Don't do this," Holly said, honesty in her every syllable.

"I must."

They both aimed at each other and fired. Holly felt the burning power of a laser shot strike her neutrino, blasting the weapon from her hand and knocking her on her back. A second later a shadow appeared above her, looming with a weapon outstretched.

"I apologize for this," Belenos stated. "I never wanted to kill you, but you left me with no other option. All of my mercies you have disregarded."

Holly looked him in the eye and saw that he was indeed sorry, but she also saw that he meant to go through with it. Before he could shoot, however, a voice called out from the din, strong and distinct amidst the chaos.

"Lower your weapon and let her go. This is between you and me!"

Belenos turned, his eyes falling upon the figure who had appeared through the smoke of the burning tank. It was Commander Root. Holly saw him and felt hope sprout in her heart—he was an inspiration—and then she looked up upon flickers of motion from above. She saw dozens of LEP officers entering from the silo opening high above, using wings to swoop in and attack the enemy on all fronts. Leading them was Captain Trouble Kelp. He was bloodied, his gear was a disaster, but he still bore the countenance of one unbroken. The tide turned in an instant, and in the middle of it all the two leaders stood, face to face. Belenos had an odd look on his face—one that bespoke the depths of his connection to Julius.

"Commander Julius Root…" he said coldly.

Despite all the danger, Root stepped closer to Belenos, revealing himself fully and locking eyes with his old friend. It was something he had been unable to do even to a hologram before, but now he looked into this elf's emerald eyes, thereby seeing into his own past and remembering everything—all the pain, all the perfidy, all the madness. Finally, after a hundred years, he faced the demons that had haunted him in his waking hours and tormented him in his sleep.

"In the flesh, Belenos..."

There was a long moment of silence as they eyed each other, and the very air seemed thick with the chill that was between them. It was one of those profound moments that seemed to burn into the memory, a moment when two beings of incredible reputation stood face to face while countless lives hung in the balance; a pivotal, defining moment of truth. Neither of them moved nor spoke for several intense seconds, and then Belenos, with a changed countenance, spoke smoothly.

"It has been a long time."

"Indeed it has…" Root replied, before his expression hardened even more. "Surrender. Or at least aim at me instead of her."

"That would be no good," Belenos replied coldly. "You do not fear your own death. What terrifies you is the death of your comrades, even the possibility of it. I remember how our little war shook your very soul back then. No, I will remain like this. You are not foolish enough to think that I cannot kill Captain Short before you pull your trigger."

This made Root glare even more, and his face, already crimson, somehow deepened in its vermilion hue. "You will not succeed."

Belenos still had the small device in his left hand, and though he did not glance at it he was thinking about it. "I beg to differ. You're all too late."

Holly was still lying on her back under the barrel of Belenos' gun. She looked at the device he held, and saw that there was a flashing indicator upon it—and it was flashing green. The meaning was obvious, and in spite of all the danger she was in, Holly thought of going for it. She was about to do so when he pressed the flashing button, and then everything changed in an instant. All of the years of preparation, all of the plans and veiled intentions, were now laid bare in the deployment of the world's greatest weapon. There was flash, and a roar, both harbingers of the end of the world, and then Holly found herself face to face with her greatest fear—her greatest nightmare.


	20. The Sun Always Rises

**Project Morrígan, Laconus Headquarters**

Holly watched as Belenos pressed the button, and then felt an overwhelming explosion of force. The moment the launch protocol was enacted, Project Morrígan came to life, its thrusters belching blue flame and a wave of acrid smoke. It burst through the room, and the force of it, besides the heat, knocked everyone on their backs and utterly obliterated any sense of organization and control. In the blink of an eye, Holly found herself thrown back a dozen meters and slammed into a desk, all the while destruction tore through everything around her. And through that madness, rising with a sapphire glow from its engines, went the weapon she had been determined to stop. It accelerated at a ridiculous rate, shooting through the opening in the ceiling and rising into the dawn-painted firmament. Nothing stopped it, not even part of the cavern roof, which it simply rammed right through as if it were made of paper. As it went, the whole mountain was shaken, and the silo itself began to crumble and fall apart. Metal supports and pieces of stone rained down as the uppermost part of the ceiling lost its integrity, and Holly, staring past it towards that glowing blue light, felt something far worse than fear for her life—the fear of absolute failure.

As death rained down around her, this feeling tried to weigh her down, piercing her confidence like a knife. She shook it off despite its power, suddenly focusing on what she could still do; it was a time in which polar opposites rose to power, either extreme weakness or extraordinary strength. She was not giving up, not yet, not until there was nothing left to be done. Rising with a furious look on her face, she sprinted through the chaos, dodging debris and seeking out what she needed. She found it at a safer spot in the room, where several of Trouble's officers were hunkered down waiting out the storm.

"Hey, you! I'm requisitioning your gear!" Holly yelled, grabbing the nearest officer and tapping him on the helmet with her fist—she was in no mood for proper communication. When he looked up she simply made a pointed gesture and grabbed his pair of un-mounted wings, and then his atmospheric helmet. She stuffed the latter on as she ran, and then attached the wings while dust and smoke exploded from a collapse in front of her. _Not yet…_ she thought, looking to the sky. _This is not over!_

Without any hesitation, she powered up the wings and blasted into the troubled air, through the storm of falling rock and debris and out through the silo opening. When she emerged into the morning air, she was greeted by the sight of the destroyed island—fires burned everywhere, and smoke hung over the low forests like a dense fog, dismal and ominous. The whole world seemed to be dying before her eyes—and it would, if she failed. She ignored everything but the glowing light above her; the missile, like a star, guided her towards her destiny, leading her on like the pull of a magnetar. She refused to let anything stop her, not even the blatant fact that she could not catch up with it. Powering her wings past their design limits, she rose higher and higher into the sky, leaving the island behind and passing the foremost clouds that hung like cotton in the ever-lightening air. The sun had not yet risen, but the horizon was painted a brilliant pink and gold, indicating the approach of the irreversible. Holly could feel the unsettling premonition within her heart, and it served to further her reckless pursuit of the missile.

" _Holly, what in Frond's name are you doing?!"_ Commander Root yelled in her ear, sounding flabbergasted and furious at the same time. Holly merely glared, her eyes set on her target.

"I'm ending this!"

" _Let Vinyáya and her pilots deal with it, Captain. Stand down!"_

At that moment three LEP interceptors shot past her, ascending vertically towards the ever distancing missile. The flash of their weapons fire could be seen, but so could the ripple of the missile's shields as the attacks struck it. A moment later, suddenly and without mercy, a response of weapons fire from the missile itself struck all three of the LEP ships, tearing their wings off and sending them plummeting towards the ocean far below. As Holly saw this she gritted her teeth, and then yelled into her mic.

"Don't shoot at it! It's an AI-controlled missile, it will detect everything we do around it! If it thinks it's in danger, it will preemptively eject its warheads!" She paused, that very information still sinking in to her as she said it. "D'arvit!" she swore, trying to go faster but not getting anything more out of her wings. The sapphire glow continued to get farther and farther away, as did her hope. Then she thought of something and yelled into her mic. "Foaly, I need your help! Can you do anything to stop that weapon?"

The centaur spoke after a moment of static—no doubt he was busy trying to do exactly that. _"I already know! That missile needs to be stopped from deploying its munitions, but we cannot shoot it down without triggering its fail safes…"_

"Then hack it, fool it, do something dammit!"

" _Its firewall is too robust, and then there's the shield, it blocks anything potent…I cannot compromise it remotely!"_

Holly's hazel eyes were locked on the sapphire glow—on the beauty that was so deadly. An idea was forming in her head, a reckless, desperate idea. "What if you have a direct connection?"

 _"I could work with that, but it's not possible to get a direct connection to it."_

"Yes it is," Holly growled, her eyes now narrowed.

Foaly sounded perplexed for a second, and then he got it. _"You don't mean…oh gods you're serious?"_

"Perfectly. There's no time to argue. Just tell me you can do it."

 _"Yes, yes I can…"_

"Good, " Holly said, "Now all I need is a lift…"

The moment she said this, a massive shadow appeared through the clouds directly to her left. She looked and saw one of the LEP assault transports burst into view, its engines flaring hotly as it went almost vertical. It came up right beside Holly, and its side door was open. A familiar voice spoke in her earpiece.

 _"Get in, Captain, we don't have much time!"_

Holly steered into the ship, grabbing on to the metal rungs on its side and then pulling herself into the compartment. The door closed behind her, and she continued to hold on to the metal rungs, given the vertical flight. A look at the cockpit confirmed that Commander Vinyáya was piloting the thing, not to Holly's surprise. They locked eyes, and nodded. There was no need for words between them, not when both of them knew the plan by instinct.

"Alright, hold on," Raine said, putting her thumb over the afterburner button.

The ship accelerated to a hypersonic speed, breaking the sound barrier as it pursued the missile; the sound was muffled by the wall, but Holly heard it and smiled a little. Then she shifted her attention to the gear in the back of the ship. She needed to suit up, and the LEP's advanced flight outfits and helmets were what she needed to survive at high atmospheric levels. Despite the vibrations and the vertical flight, she quickly switched into them, and then reattached her wings. When she was done, she climbed to the cockpit, and looked over Raine's shoulder. The sapphire glow of the missile was very close at hand, and its metallic hull began to shine as the sun, now revealed by their altitude, cast its rays upon it.

"I won't bother to talk you out of this, neither of us ever back down," Raine stated, a fierce expression on her face. "ETA four minutes until it levels out. Get into position, and good luck out there."

Holly nodded. "Thank you." She was soon standing by the closed door, one hand holding on to a ceiling rung and the other hanging idly by her side; she was as ready as she would ever be, having steeled herself and found the right reasons for her reckless plan. Her life may be lost doing it, but she knew that it would be for something that she—and her mother—believed in. Destruction could not be her legacy, and by extension, it could not be the People's. No matter the danger, she would ensure that humanity, despite all of its wrongdoings, would be given another chance.

"Thirty seconds!" Raine called out.

 _Alright, here we go…_ Holly thought, clutching the ceiling rung even tighter. The time passed swiftly, and as it did she began to see the missile out the view port. It was flying alongside them, graceful and powerful, a thing of terrible beauty. Its blue engine flare stood out against the ever darkening firmament, where stars were beginning to become visible. They were clearly past the stratosphere, over fifty kilometers above the surface, and at such a height it was ludicrous to think of jumping out into the vast nothingness of the air—and yet that was exactly what her plan entailed. Her flight suit and helmet were designed to withstand the environmental influences of up to two-hundred miles, virtually like a space suit but thin and lightweight; thankfully the missile, one its current flight path, was set to level out and disperse its ordnance at far less than that. If anyone were to try such a thing in regular gear, they would be killed by the temperature, lack of air, and a number of other forces. Holly was not worried about any of them. For some reason, despite the fact that she had never done anything like this, she felt not an iota of fear in her heart—it was as if all of it had drained along with the presence of incertitude. She was confident and determined, and nothing could stop her; that's how she approached this treacherous task.

"Leveling out now," Raine stated, now sealing her helmet and talking via their communications link. "Foaly predicts a stable flight of four minutes before it launches its warheads."

"More than enough…" Holly whispered to herself.

The LEP shuttle kept alongside the missile as it ceased its upward motion, going into a gliding state that had it slow down and then level out on an ever declining trajectory. It was at this moment, when their speed had reduced to almost nothing due to the change in direction, that the door separating Holly from the world beyond opened. It opened to a realm of paradoxical nothingness. There was no sound, not even any wind, the only sensation that of the momentary weightlessness she hoped to exploit. She stared out into oblivion, at the missile that was now only a few dozen meters below her, and jumped.

Attached to the shuttle via a cable, and using her wings to maneuver, Holly flew towards the missile. Everything depended on her hunch about its shields being the same as the neural tank, susceptible to a physical being landing on its surface; she would soon find out if she was right. As she closed the gap between her and her target, the world loomed below her, now alight with the sun's rays—that brilliant glowing orb crested the massive horizon, turning the sky into a sea of gold. It was beautiful, but there was no time to look at it.

 _Come on, just a little closer,_ Holly thought, steering herself towards the gliding weapon. She reached out when it was close enough, and tensed up as she touched it—nothing happened. _Oh thank the gods!_ A second later she landed on its surface, using the magnetic clamps in her suit's gloves and boots to stick to it. So far nothing had happened. Project Morrígan's AI did not seem to detect her or the benign shuttle as a threat to its mission. _Not the brightest AI,_ she thought with relief. It was a stroke of pure luck, and it made her smile recklessly. "Alright, I'm on it," she growled, speaking to her quadrupedal friend far below. "Are you ready?"

" _Perfectly,"_ Foaly replied, sounding stressed. _"We have only two minutes. Use your helmet's data uplink and connect me to something, anything!"_

Holly looked at the smooth surface of the missile and saw no place to connect her uplink cable. She instinctively drew her neutrino and pressed it against a certain spot, where the markings of a maintenance hatch were faintly visible. With her being inside the shield barrier, she could fire at it without impediment, but she would have to be careful to do so without tripping the weapon's fail-safe. Using a lower setting, she slowly removed the armor plating around the hatch, seemingly with success. But then, as she was removing the panel to reveal the sensitive hardware beneath, the missile lurched and suddenly ignited its thrusters again.

"Oh shit, shit!" Holly exclaimed, feeling herself getting tugged along with it. She glanced upwards to see Vinyáya's shuttle trying to keep up, and then saw a burst of defensive laser fire from the missile's rear section. The crimson bolts tore through the shuttle's fuselage, sending pieces of it spiraling through the silent chaos while the ship itself lost control. The reinforced cable acting as Holly's lifeline was torn in half by the shooting as well. She gasped as the shuttle fell like a brick, dropping down towards the earth miles below; fire was blazing from its side, and black smoke left an ominous trail. Holly stared as the ship fell out of view, and then heard Raine's voice calling to her through her headset.

 _"I'll be alright! Just stop that weapon!"_

 _Right!_ Holly thought, glaring with determination as she set her eyes on the hole she had made in the ship's plating. She holstered her neutrino and took out the data-uplink cable from the back of her helmet. Desperately, she searched for a place to insert it, and after finding none of the traditional, standardized ports, she instinctively selected the closest thing. The missile was now moving at an ever increasing speed, its sapphire engines glowing in her peripheral vision, and as she tried to insert the uplink cable it rolled, throwing her off balance and nearly unlocking the magnetic gear that kept her in position.

 _You're not getting me off that easily!_ Holly strained every muscle in her body, fighting against the ever growing atmospheric forces as both she and the missile descended. It was now down to seconds—seconds to save the world. If she failed, billions would die, and for what? There would be no justice in it, only madness, only a sick sense of retribution. No, it needed to be stopped, humanity needed another way out than this, and Holly, clinging to an instrument of her own kind's comparable evil, knew this from the bottom of her heart. Not only for her own ideals did she do this, or for those far below, but in memory of her mother. This was her legacy, and she would not screw it up by failing now. She screamed with the effort of reaching towards her target, sweat dripping down her face and pain beginning to register in her mind. She did not stop, not even as she felt something in her wings snap and break. Still she tried, her courage unassailable, until with one final burst of strength she slammed the uplink cable home. It was at that moment when the side panels all along the missile opened, revealing the launch tubes for the warheads. Holly screamed into her mic.

"Foaly!"

" _I'm in, I just need a little time!"_

Holly stared at the closest launch tube, seeing the warhead within. "I don't think we have any of that!"

" _Just remain linked to it for a little longer. I need to upload my software before I can…"_

Holly heard nothing else from Foaly, as from out of nowhere came a wave of interference and sudden light. The entire surface of the missile flashed with a transfer of energy, and it struck Holly, literally swatting her off like a pest. It was an electromagnetic pulse, meant for that purpose by the weapon's shrewd AI. It cast her off, so suddenly that she had no words or thoughts for it, and when she was separated so was her data uplink cable. One moment she was clinging to the side of the missile, and the next she was hundreds of feet below it, falling like a brick. She stared upwards at the sapphire glow in disbelief, thinking that she had failed; with great terror she felt the final few seconds go by until the missile was set to launch its warheads. She watched it from afar in the silent upper atmosphere, seeing the glinting metal of the weapon as the sun, so brilliant and gold, reflected upon it. Then the time was up, and despite herself she almost shut her eyes. By a certain strength she kept them open, resolving to see it through to the end, no matter what happened. She watched, silently hoping, praying, that the weapon would be stopped. A few more intense seconds passed, and nothing happened; the missile just kept on flying, its sapphire glow constant. Holly watched it fearfully, though with a positive hope starting to kindle in her mind.

"Foaly, speak to me," she rasped, focused on the weapon rather than the fact that she was falling towards the earth. No one spoke to her, and she knew why; the pulse from the missile had fried her helmet's communication systems. She could only hope that Foaly had succeeded with the uplink time she had given him. Such hope soon flourished as the missile changed its direction and brought its engines to full power. A massive pillar of hot sapphire flame blasted from its thrusters, and as it ascended at hypersonic speeds it left a trail of glittering blue. Its direction took it straight out into the outer atmosphere and then into space itself. Holly watched as it got farther and farther away until, with one last glimmer of sapphire, it disappeared into the great expanse of space. Even when it was gone she stared, and then, after the surreal feeling of such a narrow success wore off, she smiled. They'd done it. It was finally over.

A sudden blast of wind knocked her from the spell of ecstasy, sending her end over end into a nearly uncontrollable free fall. "Scratch that, maybe not yet!" she rasped, realizing just how fast she was falling. Her helmet had given her respite from the reality of falling, muffling everything and protecting her from the environment, but as she reached the thicker atmosphere everything changed. She had just accomplished her goal, finished her mission. Humanity, and the People's future, had been saved. Now it was time for her to save herself.

Her situation was dyer, and it got worse by the second. She had to slow herself down and make a controlled entry into the lower levels of the atmosphere, or she would die. With that simple yet daunting task in mind, she powered up her wings and used their emergency thrusters to their fullest extent, not bothering with anything but full throttle. Using the steering mechanisms, she desperately tried to bring herself out of her spiraling state, and after what felt like an hour she managed to, stabilizing herself so that she was facedown as she fell, sort of like a skydiver except dozens of kilometers higher. Using her thrusters, she applied horizontal force—she dared not fully deploy the wings themselves or try to outright cease her descent, as the force would tear her wings apart. Instead she slowed herself down and tried to maintain some sort of order. Easier said than done.

After falling for a few minutes, and experiencing all of the things that such a passage entailed, Holly found herself at what she perceived to be twenty-thousand meters above sea level. In fact, she could see the sea below her, the same one she had been operating in before—it was hard to miss such a large body of water. The Pacific was quite an impressive sight from above, and terrifying, its wondrous blue dotted by islands appearing ominous. Holly tried not to think of what would happen to her if she landed at her current speed. She focused on leveling out more, all in preparation for fully deploying her wings. Wind buffeted her endlessly, and the sound of her passage in the thicker air was loud, so much so that it shook her senses. Concentration was hard to attain under such circumstances, but she managed. With a relatively clear head she timed everything down, gauging the speed by perception alone, and then deployed her wings.

What she expected was a jolt and a sudden reduction of speed. The former certainly transpired, but instead of there being any change in her speed there was a loud, shaking crack from her gear. She glanced back in terror to realize that her wings, having been compromised earlier by some means, had literally snapped clean off. In her surprise she couldn't even curse; a second later she was far too occupied going end over end in an uncontrollable descent.

Holly desperately tried to right herself, but it was to no avail at first. The ocean was looming before her, its enormous blue expanse flashing by her vision each time she rolled, and it was in this disorienting plunge that she found herself wondering if she would make it out alive at all. Her confidence was shaken, as anyone's would be, but that was no excuse in her eyes. She cursed herself and tried even harder, using her arms and legs to fight against the spin and stabilize herself. It was an excruciating effort, and it almost didn't work; but if there was one thing about Holly that always rung true, it was that she was too mean to quit. This tenacity brought her out of the deadly spiral, flat to view the ocean that was now only two kilometers below. It startled her, but she did not freeze in that terror. Being at her terminal velocity of fifty-six meters a second, she had roughly half a minute until she struck the surface. She quickly tried to use what remained of her wing's thrusters to slow down, while at the same time deploying her emergency chute. A jolt of force shook her to the bone as the latter opened, but it was too late to slow her down enough. The ocean, sparkling in the golden rays of the rising sun, sped towards her, and they met with a colossal splash.

Holly's world changed completely when she struck those waves, landing face-first despite all of her efforts. Her helmet took the brunt of the force, while her flight suit's reinforced nano-fibers hardened all along her neck and spine, but even with such measures it hurt like hell. Her visor shattered, giving way to cold, salty water, and the force of her landing sent her dozens of fathoms beneath the surface, so deep that almost none of the dawn's light reached her. It was shocking to experience this, and it stunned her for what felt like an eternity. When she partially came out of it, she tasted the water in her mouth and felt its chill on her face. She opened her eyes and beheld the gloomy waters all around her, all shadow and mystery. The only light was far above, faint glimmers upon the rippling surface. She looked to them instinctively, drawn to them in her dazed state like a moth to a flame. It seemed so far away, too far to touch, and yet she reached up towards it. All of her strength seemed to leave her, the day's worth of exertion and injuries compounding and coming down all at once so that even the extending of that arm was a difficult task. She felt the cold grasp her, and felt her vitality drain away into the frigid sea; she felt the slow-approaching demise of drowning. It made her start to panic, and the shadows all pressed in at the same time, igniting her claustrophobia. She realized what it must have been like for her mother, trapped in the depths of the sea with no hope of escape. It was a terrible, being so powerless in the ocean's impartial hands. It was a nightmare.

Far above the sun was rising all the more, and its rays increased the golden glow that lay high above like another sky. Despite everything that had happened, the sun rose on a new day, just as it always did, and there was a great comfort in that. Holly did not want to die, but at that moment the brilliant light reminded her of what she had done, and all that she could be happy with in her life. She had succeeded, against all odds, and the world could carry on another day thanks to that. Her legacy was one she could be proud of, her actions without regret, and in all of it was the memory of Coral, whose life had inspired everything she had wanted to be. She realized that even death, when mounted against the fruition of that legacy, was nothing. The attainment of that state of being was worth it in the end. As long as she had done all that she could, and lived all that she could have lived, it was well. In an odd moment of shifting perceptions her pain and uncertainty melted away to the warmth of these thoughts, which fought against the chill of the mighty sea. It remained with her as she continued to sink into the blackness, and the whole while her eyes never left the guiding light above. It instilled a peace within her, a sense of hope, as if each ray of that golden light had the power to change the very workings of the stars. She watched as it grew stronger as dawn became sunrise, even as the world around her became darker and darker, and it was in this profound clash of light and darkness that she heard a voice call her name. It sounded close at hand yet echoed from an otherworldly distance.

" _Holly."_

The elf heard the familiar voice ring in her ears even though they were filled with water. She turned her head to look to her right, and saw alongside her what at first appeared to be a mirror image of herself. But it was not herself. It was Coral, dressed in her captain's uniform with her long hair moving gracefully in the water and her eyes, a luminous blue, looking into hers. In her daze Holly did not feel any surprise rip through her, and for some reason all she did was smile. Her mother smiled back, a profound happiness dancing in her eyes and an extraordinary warmth flowing in her voice, as if by her daughter's actions she had been set free.

" _Well done."_

Holly nodded slowly as the cold made her body sluggish; and yet she felt so warm. "Thank you."

There was a long moment of silence between them, mere words irrelevant compared to that which showed in their expressions. In the watery realm, gloomy at its depth, there seemed to be a light around them, a glow that was out of place. It overpowered everything else, and Holly, feeling its warmth, felt no more fear in her heart. All that existed to her was that familiar warmth, and the feeling of being close to the one she loved. Her dazed mind questioned none of it, and when Coral opened her left hand and extended it to her, she took it with the very last outpouring of her strength. Strong fingers intertwined with hers, just as a strong power wrapped around her very heart. The darkness melted away, fleeing like vapor in a wind, and then all she saw was light.


	21. Over

**Launch Silo, Laconus Headquarters**

Smoke danced in the air as Commander Julius Root made his way through the destruction, minding his footing amidst the fallen metal and stone. Fires burned here and there, casting their warm glow upon all that existed in the ruined expanse, shining on the metallic surfaces of discarded weapons and twisted beams and giving color to the myriad of dreary greys, as if in an attempt to breathe life into the dead world that remained in the battle's wake. Root saw no pleasure, no warmth, in the sights he saw—these were the images of victory, yet he felt nothing, so hollowed out was he. His brown eyes studied the gloom as he walked, ever watchful, ever searching for the one he had come for. He knew where he was going. Like a bird to the south he felt drawn by a natural instinct towards the middle of the room, where the missile, Project Morrígan, had loomed once before. Now nothing was there but fallen rock and steel, the once mighty silo crumbled and still like all the proud contrivances of history. Root walked amidst this great destruction, his eyes on the gloom ahead, where he knew his heart's focus lay.

He came to a halt a dozen meters from the room's center, standing on the same spot where he and his officers had stood during the final moments before the missile's launch. That had been twenty minutes ago, and now that the chaos had ended, he found himself there again, surrounded by silence where there had once been madness. His hands were empty, his weapon in its holster, and as he looked down upon the object of his focus he did not stir. There was no threat here, not anymore. His expression was hard, but after a moment it softened a little, betraying a bitterness that was deeply rooted in his heart.

"Hello, old friend," he said quietly. "Belenos."

Below him lay the body of the elf who had once been one of his greatest friends. Major Belenos Æthelryth, leader of Laconus and champion of the People's resurgent ultranationalism, lay trapped beneath uncountable tons of steel, only his upper body free of the crushing force. He was not moving, but he was still alive, if not just barely, and when Root spoke his name his emerald eyes opened a little more and locked on his. There was something profound in his gaze, an unbreakable spirit that was astonishing, and when he whispered a weak response his voice also bore that trademark certitude, as if his coming death meant nothing to him.

"Julius…" he rasped, his voice bereft of any hatred or anger, only calm and direct and with a subtle hint of kindness. "I am glad that you came to see me. I don't have much time…"

Root glanced at the elf's lower extremities and frowned a little. No amount of healing could save his life. "I know," he said. Without a sound he knelt down beside the dying elf, and sat upon a piece of broken stone. Their eyes never averted from one another, nor did their words; they were locked together, enemies by name yet old comrades by past and blood.

"I always knew that it would come down to this," Belenos said, almost inaudible due to his fading life. "You were always better than I…I could never be like you, no matter how hard I tried. You were something I knew I could never be, but I liked to think that I was close, so close..." He coughed, and blood ran from his mouth, its bright red glistening in the firelight. "Our war is over now. We can both rest. I only wish that it did not have to be like the last time…If only you had seen the world as I do..."

"I could never be like you," Root said, his expression unchanging.

Belenos nodded a little. "Well, that makes two of us…"

There was a moment of silence between them, and the desolation around them seemed to hold its breath. Root sat still, hearing the other's breathing getting more and more labored, and less and less deep—like listening to the ebbing flow of a draining pool. He eventually sighed, drooping just a little under the weight of what he felt inside but refused to show. "I still haven't forgiven you for what you've done. I will never be able to."

"I understand," the other replied, his words uttered with complete honesty. "I never expected you to. I did terrible things…for what I thought to be the right reasons…"

"You were wrong."

Belenos shook his head, and spoke through a rattling breath. "Let the gods sort that out, to them alone I shall answer."

Root nodded solemnly, fully accepting what his enemy—and past friend—had to say. There was no point in arguing heatedly now. It was over, and the corrupted elf lay defeated; Root found no satisfaction in kicking someone while they were down, let alone doomed to never rise again. Instead he remained by his side, remembering the old days, when everything had been clearer and easier. A part of him longed for the past, yearning for the precious life he had lived before all of the madness and darkness had tainted everything. But it was gone, departed like a ship over the horizon, and his realistic side kicked such dreams away like a pebble into a pond—and yet they still skipped along the surface of his mind. But they sank quickly enough, leaving his mind coldly attentive to the irreversible truth. Sometimes you just had to accept things as they were. It was what it was.

For a long moment Root waited, not bothering to speak to Belenos; the seconds of that silence crawled by, scraping his mind with feelings he refused to feel. Then, all of the sudden, he said what was on his mind, what mattered most to him at that defining moment. "You were a brother to me once…"

Belenos' face was starting to lose all of its color, and his expression was more pained than before. Even still, he managed to speak in a whisper. "Then…you have a poor choice in brothers..."

"No," Root said softly, looking the dying elf in the eye, "I had the very best…"

It was the truth he spoke, and it was a sad one. A ghost of a smile played at the edges of Belenos' mouth when he heard it, and with a sickening gurgle he laughed just a little, great mirth evident in the dying effort. "Then be well, brother…" He trailed off, his last words spoken with his last exhalation of breath. Stillness took him, as did the silence of undoing, and in that state he remained with a faint smile on his pale face.

Root watched the other's death with an unchanging expression, and when that last exhalation of breath ceased, he nodded ever so slightly. "For what it's worth, likewise..." He was then sitting on his own in the midst of the desolation, his only company the dead elf and his haunting smile. He was cast in thought, and in it he absentmindedly reached into his pocket and retrieved the cigar he had taken from Belenos' office. With a cold, hard expression he gazed at it, and then, with a steady hand, he lit it until its end was glowing like a miniature sun. A long pull from it was followed by a ghostly pall of smoke, which danced in the gloom between the old commander and his dead enemy. Cast in thought, Root remained still. With everything over, there was so much to think about. The smile on Belenos' face was what caught up his mind the most at that moment. He hadn't bothered telling the dying elf that his plan had failed, that all of his efforts, even his death, had been for nothing. No, he decided to let that slide. Belenos died thinking that he had won, that the People would have a secure future bereft of the scourge of humanity. He died believing that he had saved his kind when no one else could; that he had lived up to his duty to the People, carrying the torch of the warriors whose blood was shed in ancient times for that same goal. That's what was in the dead elf's smile: contentment. Root could not take that small comfort away from him, not even after all that he had done.

Now it was over, once and for all, the century-old conspiracy tied up and destined to fall behind into the silent halls of time. The operation had been a mess, a total shit show, but that was what could be expected of such an intense engagement between armies. Root was just glad it was over. As a soldier, he hated fighting, and that was why he had come so far; no one could get to where he was if their first priority was sating some sick desire for conflict—that was madness. He was a pacifist who ironically held a gun, but such was the nature of being what he was, a being who was moral and yet capable of terrible things. With these musings in his head, he glanced at his communicator, seeing data scrolling on its screen. What he saw made him nod just a little. The casualty reports had finally come in, and just as he had promised to himself at the beginning, he had not lost a single one of his officers to his enemy. It was a sheer stroke of fortune that none had been killed, because death had been so close at all times. Frankly, it was unheard of, but part of it could be attributed to the skill and dedication of the officers under his command; they had taken care of each other, and that brotherhood had saved lives where any lack of unity would have killed dozens. Many had been seriously wounded, over a hundred, and some would take years to fully recover even with the People's advanced medical technology. But they would all live on and recover, unlike so many from the past, and that was what Root took comfort in. That was his personal victory. And yet having accomplished that he did not feel joy or even relief. It was odd; he just felt cold, empty. He pondered this feeling as the glow of the cigar lit up his eyes. Maybe tomorrow he would look on it differently, but as he sat beside his dead foe his mind was tainted by the dreary veil of regret and past failures. Eventually he shook this off, and spoke into his communicator.

"What is the status on Captain Short's retrieval?"

They had lost track of her after an electromagnetic pulse had fried all of the sensitive systems in her gear, though everyone knew that she had succeeded in giving Foaly a chance to access and compromise Project Morrígan. It was thanks to her that the centaur had been able to override its systems and corrupt its AI, and thereby gain control of the missile. That weapon was now on a collision course with the sun, so everything on it, all of that terrible virus, would be utterly destroyed. After that success, Holly had gone dark, and some had feared her dead. Not Root. He never believed for a second that she would die. He took after her mother, after all, so even against terrible odds she had a good chance. He held on to that belief until he received word from Foaly that one of his satellites had spotted her, and now he waited for word from the retrieval team he sent after her.

" _We are inbound to the last known location. ETA ten minutes."_

Root nodded. "Keep me updated."

" _Roger that."_

He placed his communicator down, and took another pull from the old cigar, its nostalgic aroma filling his nostrils. The fiery glow from its end made his eyes glint as they gazed into the gloom, and his rough voice, so befitting of that place, spoke with a tone that melded with the grey smoke that swirled around him.

"Captain Short…that elf never ceases to surprise me…"

Julius waited a little longer, taking his time for the sake of the dead elf beside him. What harm was there in just a few more minutes? That time was filled with thought, but it soon passed, as all things did. With a deep sigh he rose and stood up tall, feeling the weight of his years beginning to mount upon him—they had been many, and had given him so many things to remember, so many joys and sorrows. With one last look at Belenos, he turned and started to walk through the destruction, his hands empty and his countenance firm. The cigar remained behind, smoldering half-used on the rocks beside Belenos; one half in memory of the old times, and for the sake of his departed spirit. Soon its glow faded as well, fading away ever so slowly, joining the lifeless world around it in eternal slumber.

 **Morane Atoll, Tuamotu Archipelago**

Holly opened her eyes to the sight of a clear blue sky, dotted with pure white wisps of cloud lined by the telltale gold of the morning sun. She heard waves crashing on the shore, and felt them touch her boots, but her back was on solid ground, albeit the yielding sand of a beach. When she woke her right hand instinctively clenched into a fist, taking into it a glob of soft, damp sand. She squinted at first, her eyes adjusting to the light, and when she could see clearly she blinked and glanced around, dazed and disoriented despite the tranquil sounds of lapping waves and a gentle breeze. Pain stopped her from moving suddenly, but she still managed to sit up, doing so carefully and with a grim expression on her face. Her helmet was gone for some reason, and her auburn hair, wet with salt water, clung to her forehead like glue. With a slow, pained precision she brushed it aside and glanced about.

The small, alluring expanse of an atoll stretched out before her. The thin strip of land, circular around a sparkling lagoon whose waters were a brilliant greenish blue, was cast in a warm hue of gold by the rising sun. Screw pine and coconut trees dotted the land, swaying gently in the breeze, and dozens of small Tuamotu sandpipers walked contently along the beach. Holly watched as one of such birds went past her, completely ignoring her—it made her smile, seeing such delicate life after all she had been through. She stirred just a little, and it flew away. It flew in the direction of the sun, which was now above the horizon, and Holly set her eyes on that brilliant sight, feeling its warmth on her face. It was surreal, after all that she had been through; just like her dazed vision when she had been sinking into the sea, she almost thought that it was a dream. It was not, of course, and when she stood up she felt reality pressing down upon her. She was alive, somehow washed up on to the safety of the atoll, and she honestly did not know how. It was her intention to not think about that anyway; she let its mysterious wonder persist, and focused on the land around her. There were no signs of civilization, just the way she liked it. Without a word she fell on her back and stared at the sky, exhausted and content to rest.

A few minutes later she heard what she had been waiting for, and once again stood up. An LEP shuttle materialized in the air above her, coming in for a landing upon the narrow strip of land; it seemed to know exactly where to find her. Sand and water blasted through the air when it landed, and Holly, covering her face, walked towards it. She took the hand of the officer in its open side door, and was pulled into the familiar comfort of the ship, where she was seated and given immediate attention by the onboard medic. A few moments later they were flying over the ocean, speeding along over the glittering waves. Holly stared through the viewport the whole time, lost in thought; her mind, so awash with memories, was bursting at the seams. With the madness now over, she found that there was little to do but think. Everything had happened so fast that it was only now that she had the time to reflect upon it, digest it, and come to terms with it. It was hard, as it always was for soldiers returning from a traumatic experience, but she pulled through as the ship carried her home. She made peace with what had transpired, with what she had done, and with what was to come. She knew just as well as anyone the consequences of their actions, and the ultimate outcome of the mission; she understood the final step that had to be taken before the pages could be turned.

This was all important to think about, but for a moment she put it aside, focusing on something else that she had to do. Using a communicator given to her by the pilot, she opened a channel to her superior, Julius Root. She hesitated for a second after she entered the code, but all incertitude was gone by the time she spoke into it.

"Commander, this is Captain Short."

" _It is good to know you are still with us, Captain,"_ Root replied, his formal tone as resplendent as ever. She did not detect the emotion within it. _"We were concerned, but we knew you would pull through."_

"Thank you," Holly replied. "What is the status of the operation?

" _Finished,"_ Root stated gruffly. _"Laconus has been dissolved, and the island is ours. Their weapon is presently on an express route to the sun."_

Holly nodded, a slight smile on her face. "And Belenos?"

" _Killed in action,"_ Root replied coldly, betraying none of his feelings on the matter. _"He was in the center of the collapse area. There was nothing we could do for him."_

"I understand," Holly said, her previous smile replaced by a slight frown. She never found pleasure in the deaths of others, not even her worst enemies; despite everything, she still viewed all life as precious, even the life that had become corrupt. To hear that Belenos, another figure from her obscured past, was dead, was not so much a surprise as it was the confirmation of what she had expected all along. Such a radical elf as he would never cease his work until he was killed, and he intended to go through to the very end if need be. Just as Holly had been willing to give her life to protect the world, so too had he been willing to give his in order to _protect_ it in his own way. She could not fault him for that, however terrible his intentions had been—she held a certain degree of respect for such commitment, though she still hated him for his evil deeds. "It's over then, for good this time," she said, watching as the golden sun rose further and further to bathe the sea in its light.

" _Indeed, it is,"_ Root replied, for a moment sounding tired. Then he was stoic once more. _"You did well out there, Holly. Your actions saved billions of lives."_

"I didn't do it on my own," Holly protested immediately, deflecting praise from herself. "I did my part, as did we all."

" _Of course,"_ Root said, inwardly impressed by her character. _"And I know we have Foaly to thank as well for stopping their weapon. I hear he passed out after successfully diverting the missile, and now he's in a state of catatonic self-praise, passed out in his office with a book over his face."_

This made Holly smile, the image of it easy for her mind to contrive. "Sounds just like him." She paused for a second, her mind ever changing its focus from one pressing matter to the next. "Do you need me on the island, Commander? I am willing to assist where it is needed."

" _That will not be necessary. Return to Haven and await further orders. And get yourself some rest, Holly. You've earned it."_

Holly nodded, a slight smile gracing her features. "Roger that...thank you..." She set aside the communicator. Her eyes had never left the view through the window—after seeing so much darkness, the sight of a beautiful sunrise was like water to a parched body, in this case to her parched soul. She savored it, for once not even bothering to think about anything but the moment she was in; about that brilliant orb of gold above the ever sparkling waters, and about the comfort of finally being able to rest after such a long, terrible struggle. It was good to be alive, but even more so, it was good to have lived up to her own high expectations. After all, everything that she did was in memory of the one who had set her on this path in life, and thus, more than anything, she wanted to make her proud. She wanted to be able to face her one day and say that she had done her very best—that the world was a better place thanks to the life she had lived. This was her greatest desire.

The LEP shuttle flew in stealth mode over the ocean, heading northeast until it reached the Galápagos Islands. Isabela Island was the location of one of the LEP's surface terminals, and it was there that Holly was taken from the surface—from all the light and life—down into the depths of the earth. When she finally arrived in Haven, she merely stepped out of the ship and walked through the hangar, still dressed in her ruined flight suit and looking as if she had dropped from the heavens into the ocean. She did not care that she received no reception, no greeting, or even a pat on the back from the officers there. After all, what she had just done was destined to be covered up, just like the entire operation. Her actions, and her heroics, would go unnoticed by the world, even her own kin, and she would continue to be nothing more than a greenhorn in the LEP recon division. That was alright by her. Praise and fame meant nothing to her, in fact they pissed her off. She did what she had to do, for no other reason than because it was right. Perhaps one day she would be recognized for her work, but for now she was just another officer amongst many others, a number and a badge. On top of all of this was the awareness of the final stage of the operation, the final step that she had consented to long before the operation had begun. In the end it did not matter how she felt about any of it, for she knew that she would not remember a single fragment of what had transpired. She, along with all of the officers who had participated in the clandestine mission, was to be mind-wiped. She did not think about it as she walked through the hangar, or as she took a squad car to her apartment. She didn't want to, even though it was in her interests. Instead she opened the door to her gloomy abode, tossed her gear aside, glanced warmly at her mother's medals, and collapsed on to her bed.


	22. Letting Go

It was early in the morning when Holly awoke from a deep sleep. She did so with a start, her eyes opening wide and her face contorting with a look of dazed, irrational fear. With that expression she remained lying on her back, breathing slowly to calm herself down and fight back the gnawing feelings within her heart. It took a minute or so to accomplish this, and when she was finally herself she let out a long, tired sigh. "D'arvit, not this shit again…" She turned her head slowly to her left, and saw that her hand had reached out in her waking terror and grabbed the neutrino pistol she kept on the bed stand. It made her frown, and in a slow, dejected manner she let it go and crossed her arms as she lay on her back. The nightmares were haunting her again, now all focused around the horrors she had borne witness to during her participation in the Second Laconus Incident; though that war was over, it was still fought in her head, every moment she tried to close her eyes. Such was the price of having to do the work she did.

For a few more minutes she lay still, collecting her thoughts and closing her mind to all of the things she wanted to forget. Then, with a yawn, she sat up and got out of bed. Her gloomy apartment was there to greet her, but she did not even notice the dark side of it. It was a new day, and there was something good in that. Artificial light streamed through the small window before her, near which she had purposely placed her mother's medals. That way, every morning, she opened her eyes to see them there, shining so brightly amidst the gloom of her cramped apartment. And with that, she smiled every time she woke up, starting her day with that which never ceased to give her the strength to carry on. Even on this morning, after waking up and nearly drawing her blaster on imaginary foes, she managed to smile, and it was with that inward contentment that she went about her business.

It was the same routine as always, and she did it in record time, showering and eating and then getting dressed into her uniform. This regular cycle felt odd in a way, as did everything since she had returned from her mission. That had been five days ago. Since then there had been a lot of work to do, the more vexatious sort of tying up loose ends and other such official housekeeping necessary before the closing of an operation. The debriefings had been lengthy, held in isolation from the other LEP personnel; after all, none of what they were being debriefed on was to be construed as real. Holly grudgingly participated in this phase of the mission, doing her part of satisfy regulations, and by the fifth day she was exhausted. Her sleep had been wretched, her nerves worn, and no matter how far away she was from the events of the previous struggle, she could never escape them. Being a soldier was not the sort of job one could just not take home—it stuck with you, always.

Holly was reminded of this when she left her apartment and decidedly walked to police plaza, hoping that the air and exertion would help. She found herself glancing about at times, seeing shadows and suspecting them, and sometimes just feeling herself inwardly jump at sudden noises that reminded her of those she had heard during her mission. At one point, when she was walking past a garden being tended to, she almost rested her hand on her holstered neutrino—the sound of the rustling leaves reminded her of the sound of her enemy stalking her in the tropical forest, when she had been all alone and bereft of respite. It was terrible, because she could never seem to decisively shake the fear that someone was out to kill her. There was always the faint yet present apprehension of being shot in the back—a feeling that she had picked up in that dense, humid landscape in the Pacific. She knew that it was all in her head, yet it played on her all the same. It was painful, much like the psychological suffering she had underwent after her mother's death.

It was obvious that the mission had changed her. She had never experienced such an operation ever before, and perhaps never would again, and this inexperience was what truly made the withdrawal from it a painful experience. Getting used to her regular life was a challenge after being so submerged in the brutal realm of total war; from being surrounded by madness to being in the peaceful streets of Haven. She had only spent two days in that field of operations, and yet the way it had displaced her from normal life was like being deployed for a year. It made her feel out of place in her own home, in her own city, in her own life. It was the most profound of things, and it disconcerted her greatly. Coping with it was what she needed to do, and she was having steady success with it, even though it was marked by only slight changes as the days went by. She reasoned that it would make her stronger in the end, and that the next time she was placed in such a situation she would pull out of it better than before; at least, that was what she told herself as she walked through the harmless streets feeling like every window could house a sniper.

All of this was cast in a different light by the promise of what was to come. The nightmares, the fear, the stress, all of them were products of her memories, and those memories were destined to disappear before the day was out. When she reached headquarters, she reported immediately to Commander Julius Root's office, as per her orders. When she entered she was greeted by the faint scent of cigar smoke, but not the sight of it. Root was sitting at his desk, without a cigar in sight, and though his countenance was crimson his voice lacked the usual edge he used against her. He looked up, his brown eyes locking on hers. She remembered herself and stood straight.

"Sir, reporting as requested."

"At ease, Captain," Root said, setting aside a few documents and lending her his full attention. He waited for a moment, studying her as she stood before him, and then spoke knowingly. "How are you holding up?"

"Well enough," Holly replied, trying to hide the reality of it. Root saw right through her on that one, and he nodded just a little, his expression one of understanding.

"That is one of the things that training can never prepare you for. The war is over, but the mind cannot accept it, and thus the soldier also. We are such fragile creatures to be so malleable, but that's just how it is, for we are not machines but living, feeling beings, susceptible to the traumatizing experiences of this world. One has to learn to live with it, and ultimately defeat it—the enemy in our heads." Root paused, his expression changing just a little. "Of course, that is not why you are here, Captain. We both know that." When Holly nodded he continued, now speaking gruffly and with his trademark expression. "You are well aware of the final stage of this operation, Captain."

Holly nodded again. "All officers who were exposed to classified information are to be memory wiped, in accordance with defense article thirty-seven."

"The council demands it," the commander punctuated, crossing his arms and glaring at nothing in particular. "I don't like it. It is my belief that the People should know about the demons they have created, that they are not impervious to the vices that they see as exclusively _human_. History forgotten is repeated, but it is your duty to forget it."

"It won't be forgotten completely," Holly replied knowingly.

Root nodded, absentmindedly reaching for a cigar and then thinking better of it. "Only the acting council members, Commander Vinyáya, and I, will know of it. Just like last time, sans the wildcard we knew as your mother."

Holly nodded almost imperceptibly, and said nothing.

"You are scheduled to be wiped today," Root continued, looking her in the eye. "I would have you know that you are the last one needing to be dealt with. I purposely had the others, even Foaly, wiped prior to you."

"Why?"

The Commander's tone was uncharacteristically open. "Because I think that you more than anyone needed time to think about it before you let it all go. And besides that, you deserve to retain the memory of what you accomplished. It was remarkable." He paused, a slight smile almost appearing on his hard face, expertly suppressed. "You did the impossible, Holly. Having your memories of such heroic and selfless acts taken away is a crime, it truly is, and I cannot state enough that you do not deserve this."

"It's alright," Holly said honestly. "I understand why this must be."

Root frowned a little, still on that mental track. "Still, it is a shame that we cannot formally thank you for your exemplary service. You deserve more than medals and a promotion, and you certainly deserve better than this. I am saying this now because you will not remember it, nor will you ever, so it does not matter if I break with tradition and speak against this rigid system that binds even my will. Just know that if I had my way, the world would know of your heroism. The People need heroes, after all. They need hope more than anything these days."

"I never wanted recognition," Holly said, finding it easier now more than ever to look her superior in the eye. "I did what I had to do, what I believed in. I think you know what motivates me to be what I am."

"Indeed, I do," Root said with a knowing expression. "And as long as that is what guides you, you will never fail."

"I know," Holly said, before adding, "I just want to know why you did not mind wipe her, way back then."

"Because I knew that Belenos was alive, and Coral would have been instrumental in bringing him down. I needed her to remain vigilant. I trusted her to keep a lid on all that she knew, and she did. Her death came as a shock to me, and a loss…" He glanced at one of the papers on his desks, for no reason in particular. "You did remarkably well in her stead. And now that Belenos is gone, we have no need for you to shoulder the memories as well."

"What happens after I am wiped?"

"You will return to your duties in recon, at the rank of captain. Your status will remain green, and as such you will be in the lower tiers of the roster of officers in the unit. It will take you decades to advance in this system, especially with that attitude of yours. Naturally, I will show you no preference, and I will give you hell as I always do." The elven commander paused, giving her a purposely stern expression that could have been in jest. "It will be a rough ride, Captain Short, I hope you're up for it."

Despite some of her inclinations, Holly found a reason to smile. "Sounds right up my alley, sir."

"Glad to hear it," Julius said gruffly, standing up and walking around his desk. "Everything is already in order, Captain. Let us go and get this over with."

It was a short walk to the elevator, which took them deep into the sub-levels of the station. There Holly found herself in the clandestine rooms that most officers never saw, ones that required such high levels of clearance that even top brass had to tread lightly. Of course, Root needed none of that, and he walked through all the checkpoints without pause. Being at his side, Holly received no hardship either. She did not need to wonder why she was given such freedom to move in there, because she would not remember any of it.

The room where the memory wipes were held was large, too large for the relatively small machines that resided within. This technology was not at all new—in fact, the mind wipe was a technology that had been operated for well over two-hundred years—however back in the old times it had yet to be truly brought to its full potential. A younger Foaly had worked on its early development, before he had even joined up with the LEP as their consultant; back then it had been a project of his in his ever escalating rivalry with Opal Koboi. The centaur had recently made newer versions that were more efficient and could be used on the surface during emergency operations. Holly could take some comfort in the fact that these new version were much less prone to accidental memory loss than the older ones that were around before her time. And it was funny that Foaly himself had been wiped with his own creations—no doubt he had been very indignant up until the memory of it was swatted from his consciousness. This thought put a slight smile on Holly's face, though it did not last long.

The seriousness of the pending wipe filled her mind, but at least she wasn't the only one going through with it. Aside from her colleagues, all of the captured Laconus loyalists had been wiped as well, aside from a select few. The old members of Belenos' unit, such as Vepar Cailleach, had such a long history with the ultranationalist group that to wipe their memories of it would result in the destruction of their IQ, something that was against the ethos of the council. The People did not harm their enemies, not even ones as dangerous as these. On the other hand, there was the fact that they could not just have such repositories of classified information going about in detention facilities. No, there was no room for that. It had not yet been decided upon what to do with these fairies, but ultimately they would be either mind-wiped or buried so deep in some remote facility that no one would hear from them again. That would be up to Root and the council, and Holly frankly did not care which one it was, because neither were very savory options. As she approached the the mind-wipe station, she inwardly shuddered at the thought of losing hundreds of years worth of memories, which was what her enemies stood to lose. It would tear her very existence apart, deprive her of purpose, apart from damaging her brain. No, she could not wish that upon anyone, not even those as evil as Vepar Cailleach.

She was seated in the middle of the room, and in seconds she was surrounded by technology, with wires being attached all over and even restraints being locked in place around her arms and legs. The latter was because the wiping process could sometimes lead to violent behavior, panic, and temporary madness—in rare cases of course—and Holly did not believe herself inclined to any of those three. The only thing that made her uneasy as she sat there was the looming reality of losing a part of her life. It was not that she wanted to remember all of it—there was so much she'd rather never know, mainly the horrors she had witnessed—but there were other things amidst the overall experience that she found herself clinging to, little glimmers of truth and epiphanies that came to her only during such trying times. She viewed it as her duty to hold on to them. And then there was her mother's legacy, the life Holly lived in her name. To forget such an integral part of it was unpleasant, and to forget something that was so much a part of Coral's life served to make Holly anxious as well. Ignorance was a terrible thing, but it was her duty to become ignorant of all of it simply to satisfy the desires of the council and its vexatious ideals. The thought of that made her a little angry, making her clench her fists as she waited.

As the machine was powered up and the process brought to standby, Holly reasoned her way to a calm outlook on the situation. It was hard to think with an unclouded mind, but she did her best, and came to the conclusion that it did not matter in the end what she knew or did not know. It was her firm belief that one day, either in this life or the next, she would remember everything. Truth could not be destroyed, only the awareness of it, and as with all veils over the mind it would eventually fall away. She may have a total recall at some point, in which case she would merely keep it to herself, though with Foaly's improved tech it was unlikely. She had not hidden anything to jumpstart her memory either, simply because she did not want to betray her superior's trust. But even if she took the ignorance to her grave, her eyes would be opened in what came after, when all of the weighty accoutrements of life were shed and she met her family once more. She knew that would be the case—she believed in it with all of her heart and soul—and so, with that hopeful thought in her head, she resigned herself to what had to be until that time. She took a long breath and exhaled it slowly, settling these thoughts in her mind and letting her clenched fists loosen.

"Alright, everything is ready to go," said Root.

Holly looked to her right, where the Commander was standing behind the system's control module. He was the only one running it, for the sake of keeping a lid on the whole matter, but he was not inept with the technology. Though Foaly and his techies were the ones who carried out fine-tuned, selective memory wipes, most personnel knew how to conduct the less complicated _blanket_ wipes, which simply took care of a block of memories. The wiping of a mere week from someone's memory was simple and had no risk of long-term damage to the brain. All of what happened would be gone and replaced by false memories of a generic week of police work. It could not get any easier than that. Root seemed very certain of himself as he stood by the control panel, waiting on her.

"Are you ready, Holly?" he asked.

Holly thought about it, once again considering what it meant to give up the memory of such a powerful, transformative experience. And once again, she had the same conclusion, bringing her to a readiness that was wise beyond her years. Yet in spite of this, there was one last thing she wanted to know, a question that had its roots in the flipside of her situation. As Root waited on her word, she looked him in the eye, and after a moment of powerful silence, she spoke.

"Can I ask you one more thing, before this is over?"

The old elf merely nodded, making it clear that he would answer. There was a comforting honesty in that simple gesture that eased Holly's mind. She asked without inhibitions.

"What is it like, being one of the only ones to remember something like this?"

The question did not get an immediate answer from Julius, who stood still with a thoughtful expression on his face. There was a look of reminiscence in his eyes, the sort of glimmer of memories both painful and pleasant. Then, quite uncharacteristic of him, the old elf sighed, sounding a little tired—perhaps only now revealing what he felt inside.

"It is as if I am living in another world apart from everyone else, a world that is darker, colder, filled with shadows that only I see…" He paused, a sad smile on his face and profound air about him. His veneer of hardness had opened to reveal the elf that hid beneath, an elf who was filled with the very things that so many thought him incapable of; an elf named Julius. "It is a lonely place," he said softly, "but that is nothing new to me. Doing what I do, being what I am, is another kind of loneliness, one far more powerful than merely knowing a few terrible secrets. It is my job to be that way, it is my burden." He regarded Holly for a moment, seeing in her something from his own past, a reminder of what he had once been, when his years had been few and his hairs not yet greyed. His sad smile never went away. "We all pay a price for the lives we live, Holly. What matters is that it's worth it. I hope that one day, when you ask yourself that question, you will find a reason to smile."

To hear this was to hear the unreserved voice of the elf Holly so greatly admired; to see through the hardness of his character, into the center of his being, the heart from which his passions rose. She had not expected it, but neither did she let it floor her; if anything, it made what would happen next easier. She smiled a little, caught off guard and disarmed by his honesty and the very nature of his response. "I will, Julius. Thank you."

The grizzled elf's smile remained for a second longer, prolonged by what he saw in Holly. Then it faded, ever so slowly, though the look in his eyes did not change. He put his hands on the control panel, slowly and naturally, as if he had all the time in the world—perhaps, as if he wanted to savor this rare moment. When he spoke, it was with a voice so honest and profound in its intonation that it seemed to echo forever in Holly's mind. "You will not see me like this again, Holly, so this is farewell. Now, are you ready?"

Holly looked into his eyes, and then looked into her own heart. She was ready now, prepared to let the memories go and return to a life that would not be the same as this. At that moment, one of the hardest decisions in her life came naturally, as if providence itself had willed it. "I am ready."

Root's gaze was powerful as he locked eyes with her one last time. "Then be well, Holly."

 _Be well._ Holly heard those words echo in the very core of her being, and as she looked Julius in the eye at that final moment, she nodded. _I will._ The moment ended then and there, like a dream closing upon wakefulness, everything changing in a flash—in the twinkling of an eye. She took one last deep breath, closed her eyes, and let everything go.


	23. Legacy

**Gaoligong Mountains, Yunnan Province, People's Republic of China**

The Gaoligong Mountains basked in the golden sunlight of a spring morning, its forested hills and rocky peaks towering above the Nujiang Valley, within which hung a gentle fog that made the entire world below seem hidden in natural mystery. A favorable wind danced through the subtropical highlands, swaying the broad-leaf forests and casting the delicate morning dew, which had gracefully settled upon the leaves, into glittering showers that rained down upon the damp earth and pattered upon the dense underbrush, making a soothing song with each wave of glittering droplets. The sky was bereft of even the slightest of blemishes, a soft blue that seemed to mirror the very innocence of the nature it loomed above, and within it flew the majestic form of a golden eagle, which had appeared from the treetops and beat its powerful wings until it glided high above on the warm updrafts. It was the very image of nature's majesty, seeing the eagle circle high above the world, and for the elf standing upon a forested hillside it was a sight that warmed her heart and instilled a mighty passion. A smile worked its way across Captain Holly Short's face as she watched the eagle disappear over a hillside, and that expression remained as she surveyed the dewy world around her. To be free like that eagle…

The elven captain was dressed in the latest recon gear; wings, neutrino and all. Her helmet was off, tucked under her arm, and so her auburn hair moved with the wind as the sunlight glimmered in her luminous hazel eyes. She breathed the air, willfully ignoring the notable tinges of pollution, and let herself go still amidst the trees, becoming one with nature. This was the sort of experience that every fairy yearned for, and yet so many did not get to bask in it. Holly was forever grateful for the path she walked in life, for to be in places like this, free to observe the beauty of a world she could not otherwise have, was to truly live.

She was happy to be on the surface again, ecstatic to be honest. It had been almost two months since she had had her last surface mission. During that time belowground she had been tasked with a number of localized operations, all surrounding a brief stage of unrest between several powerful factions in Haven's convoluted social hierarchy. That had come to an end a few days ago, though not without incident. Holly had been charged with providing security during a high-profile function in the city's mayoral compound, the reason being the credible threats being made against a certain number of powerful guests attending. Predictably, Holly had hated every moment of it. There she was, dressed in a vexatious suit and surrounded by posh, ignorant nincompoops whose hardships in life were limited to fine dining and celebrity gossip. The only comfort had been the presence of two neutrinos in underarm holsters, and the fact that she did not have to participate in the formalities of fine dining. Nevertheless, she had been expected to be civilized, a courteous guest in the midst of gentlefolk, and it was in that odd state that she realized just how conflicting her very existence was. She was expected to be civilized, moral, and innocuous, while at the same time she was trained day after day how to be an instrument of the most uncivilized practice of all. For half the dinner she watched people eat, and all she saw in their forks in knives were quick ways to kill or severely hurt someone. It was paradoxical, ridiculous, as if her very existence was a bizarre form of schizophrenia. She saw it in herself all the time—being a pacifist, and yet being a weapon to fight against those who threatened the innocent. But that's just how it was. This life of hers was a paradox. In it she had experienced the best of times and the very worst, bearing witness to the extremes of peoples' behavior—incredible evil, and extraordinary goodness. Her days as an officer had exposed her to wonders and horrors, and by those experiences, the things she had seen and done, she had tasted both happiness and sorrow in their purest form.

Such a profound realization was about the only thing good to come from that silly social function in Haven. The rest had gone as bad as Root had anticipated, with a number of armed assailants showing up and bypassing all of the external security measures, leaving only Holly and a few other officers to deal with them. Naturally, she had succeeded in stopping them from accomplishing their shady objectives, and without a single injury to the citizens apart from chaos-inflicted burns from hot soup and the lamentation of expensive textiles stained with wine. That incident led to a very quick resolution to the problem, with several warrants and a good bit of early morning raids, which Holly headed with great efficiency. Almost immediately after that, she had received news from Commander Root of a surface op he wanted her to lead. Now, standing on a mountain in Southwestern China, she was about to see it through.

As she stood on the mountainside, she heard the voice of her colleague in her ear—a familiar, flamboyant voice.

" _Captain, you are clear to proceed with the mission. Best of luck."_

"Thanks Foaly," Holly said, brushing some of the falling droplets of dew from her face. "Remember our bet."

" _How can I forget,"_ the centaur replied, his smile evident in his tone. _"A case of carrot juice says the package is drunk to her ears."_

Holly nodded, a grin on her face. "Got it. I'll hold you to the opposite."

" _Dream on, Short. My sources are never wrong."_

The sun was climbing steadily, and the day was becoming hotter and hotter. Holly checked the time, noted her position, and then eyed the marker on her holo-map that indicated the target area. Despite the inherent danger of being seen, they had been forced to conduct the operation during the day; intelligence sources made it clear that they needed to act swiftly. Holly had taken a pod to the surface terminal beneath the Gaoligong Mountains—the closest access point to the target—and was to fly shielded to the city of Ho Chi Minh. It was a long flight to do using her shield, but she was charged with enough magic to make the trip thrice. Once her objective was secured, she would rendezvous with a team of retrieval officers on the island of Hòn Sơn, several hundred kilometers from the target area, just off the shore of southern Vietnam. There she would be relieved of the package. It was a very tedious operation, given all the extra measures they had to take for the daylight, but Holly was content. After all, she loved her job, and danger was a part of that. The harder a mission got, the more she yearned to carry it out—just as an inspired artist, upon seeing an even greater work ahead, would strive to make his lifeless mark.

With her orders memorized and demanding that she set off, she looked up to the sky. She could stand around all day amidst the trees, but there was never such respite from her duties—time was of the essence now, and she had some serious work to do.

The objective of her mission was to retrieve a rogue fairy, a female sprite who had fled to the surface several centuries ago due to involvement in a serious disaster in one of the Lower Element's isolated townships. Records had it that she had been a healer once, and a village clairvoyant for one of the old traditionalist enclaves. Her name was Freyja Lámfada. A terrible accident had transpired long ago in her village, where for reasons unknown everyone had contracted a fatal illness. It was a terrible ailment, with perfect killing power, and no matter how many medical teams Haven's top brass allocated to study the quarantined region, they found nothing to indicate a biological threat. In the end it was deemed a magical ailment, much to the government's dismay. The authorities were short on answers, and back then, without the technology they had now, they were not able to track the only survivor, the healer who had supposedly experimented with one too many arcane spells. There had been no traces of her movements for hundreds of years, and presently, long after the incident had been forgotten by most, her missing status had become a cold case. Until now, that is. All it took was a single blip on the radar to draw the attention of the LEP's intelligence division, and they had several. The case was opened, and Holly was assigned to track down and retrieve Freyja Lámfada. The top brass wanted answers, even after such a long period of silence, and it was her job to make sure they got them.

It was Holly's belief that this healer had been set up, for one reason or another, and her refuge on the surface was merely to protect herself from wrongful prosecution. This notion was a result of a number of credible sources indicating that a group of black-magic lunatics had been out to ruin her life; what better way than to frame her for the murder of her own family and friends? Others, including Foaly, thought that she had in fact killed her kin, albeit by mistake, and that she ran away to drown in sorrow and regret rather than face her people and the reality of her error. That's where the _drunk_ bet came from. Rumors had it that this elf, posing as a healer in human society, needed to continuously drink herself blind in order to keep from killing herself. If that was truly the case, Holly hoped that something could be done to help her after they brought her home. She never once thought of the possibility of failing to accomplish that objective.

With all of this on her mind, Holly ceased her enjoyment of the scenery around her. Her smile quickly faded into a stoic expression, and her eyes looked firmly to the horizon, in the direction she needed to go. With one smooth motion she put on her helmet and powered up her wings, and then, without pause, she took to the sky. Only for a second she was visible, and then she became nothing more than a shimmer in the humid spring air. In seconds she was high above the forested hillside, moving southeast at maximum speed, and despite her determined demeanor her face's stoic look quickly gave way to a reckless excitement. She had missed this as well, the feeling of flight, the freedom that it gave. She found herself grinning like a lunatic as she blasted through the air at hundreds of kilometers an hour, and once she had set her suit to autopilot, she observed the world passing beneath her like a miniature. There was nothing quite like it, seeing the world from such a viewpoint, and it served as another reminder of why she loved being in recon.

Holly had been in the recon division for fifteen years, and the time had passed so quickly that as she looked back on it, it seemed like only yesterday that she was standing in Commander Root's office to be given her evaluation for admittance. A lot had changed since then, but that old elf certainly had not. Root seemed to be the very bane of her existence at times, making her job a living hell with his love for traditional methods and outdated gender roles. She was an unorthodox officer, and her disregard for authority got her into trouble at times, but at the same time her commander never threw her out, no matter how crimson his countenance got. He was hard on her, but it was her inner belief that he did so for reasons beyond her awareness—reasons that she would likely never know. There was a lot of mystery in her line of work, and the fact was that there was more to it than she could have ever expected. After all, she had no memory of one of the most defining moments of her career.

Fourteen years had passed since the Second Laconus Incident, and over that time Holly had never recalled it, not even in her dreams. Her past was bereft of those memories—and all the scars they had created—and since then she had pursued the same passions that had motivated her before and during that forgotten crisis. Despite what she had lost with those memories, she still had the one thing that had started it all, and that was something she would never lose.

Her work had been tireless, each year passing at a breakneck pace, and there was not a moment within it that she regretted. All the hard work, all the sacrifices she had to make, was all worth it in the end. She would get up in the morning every day and look in her mirror, and upon matching her own gaze she would smile. There were times when she felt like she could not go on, but they never lasted long, not with the fire that burned within her. This future, the one she had looked forward to fourteen years ago, was worth the price she paid to live it. She was happy in spite of all the things that had tried to stop her, and she knew that it was because she had never deviated from the path her mother had given her. Every day was a new chance to change the world, and she rose to that challenge, just a Coral had.

Holly thought about this as she flew, finding the time to reflect as she sped over China and then into Laos. A few hours passed, her straight path taking her over Thailand and Cambodia, and finally into Vietnam, where she switched off the autopilot and took direct control of her flight. Maintaining her shield, she lowered her altitude and skimmed over the jungles and fields that stretched throughout the region, and then the extensive farmlands. Many times she saw the scars that war had left on the land, and all she was willing to think on the matter was that it had been absolute madness to purposely prolong such an unnecessary conflict. She passed over the heads of farmers and the townsfolk of the rural parts of the nation, seeing them all working honestly in their daily toil, and remembered that humanity, despite how terrible they could be, was just trying to survive like everything else. That was no excuse for their ignorance of course, and Holly still disdained them for that, but she was aware that they could still change.

Within minutes she could see Ho Chi Minh City on the horizon, its convoluted sprawl an eyesore amidst the green fields. The haze of pollution hung over the metropolis in the midday heat, and the sun, blazing high above in its ever shifting watch, made all of the metal and glass shine dully in the smog. Holly gazed at it with a sour expression, but remained on course, her mind not on the messy urban sprawl but the rogue fairy that was hidden within it. Her helmet's HUD lit up as she got closer, indicating with a simple red symbol the location of the target. It was not absolutely certain if the intelligence officers were correct about the exact location, but they had gleaned the information via hearsay from a number of humans who had supposedly used the rogue fairy's healing services. No actual scouting work had been done in the area, the reason being because that was Holly's job. Usually she would have one of Foaly's surveillance satellites covering her, but there were presently numerous areas of interest to the LEP, and Holly's mission was of the least priority given her flawless track record; they trusted her to succeed without an eye in the sky. Holly frowned as she hovered over the busy streets, her hazel eyes tracking the crimson reticle. The tightly-packed buildings blocked direct sight, and the alleyway was so narrow that she could not see inside well enough to see much of anything. Circling around, she found an alleyway that was least populated, and came in slowly for a landing.

The muddy ground yielded beneath her boots as she touched down, and the smell of decay struck her even in her filtered helmet. She wrinkled her nose while powering down her wings, and cast a wary glance around the gloomy alleyway where the sun's warmth rarely touched. There were no vendors of hagglers in this passage, not even pickpockets; the smell of cooking food and the sound of loud voices was faint, all in the distance as if in another world. What Holly saw instead was a place of decay and hopelessness. Cripples and the bleakly infirm lay around her, along both sides of the alleyway, on islands of rice mat that poorly protected them from the sullied earth. Sewage and drainage congregated freely on the muddy lane around them, and rats moved about with malignant intentions. Holly stared at the scene with a frown on her face. She felt sick to her stomach, but far stronger was the feeling of sadness within her heart. These people were outcasts in their own society, forgotten by their kin, alone and destitute in their suffering. All they could hope for was the decency of the occasional passersby, and from what Holly had seen such a quality was not common in these decrepit streets. It was such a terrible thing, to see such suffering, and far worse was the fact that she could do nothing for them without exposing the People. Instead, swallowing her morals, she walked through the muddy alleyway, passing each and every one of the fading humans—passing by each opportunity for kindness and mercy. As she did so she looked at them, seeing their vacant eyes and smelling their stench, and as she did so she wondered if they would even notice her if she was not shielded. They seemed departed from the world, yet with one foot still hanging on inside of it. Holly did her best to ignore the feeling this gave her, but part of her knew that some of these poor souls would not live to see another day. She passed the last one near the end of the alley, and glanced at what seemed to be nothing more than a pile of rags. She soon realized that the bony figure wrapped within it was actually dead. Rats were chewing at his hands, which were covering his face in one last gesture of despair. Holly looked away and kept going while on the inside she shuddered. No one deserved to die like that, and yet it happened all the time, as normal as rain. What a terrible world it was, if such a thing was seen as normalcy!

 _Focus, Holly, focus,_ she told herself, bringing her mind back on track. Sometimes her compassionate heart got the best of her, even after all the years of hardening training and experience. Leaving the gloomy sights behind, she stepped out into another muddy alleyway, this one deserted but for a few stray cats. After a minute of careful navigation, she reached the corner that would take her in the direction of her objective, which lay only a hundred feet away. She paused at the edge, pressing herself against the wall and waiting in silence. Not a second later the sound of two sets of footfalls could be heard in the adjacent lane, one heavy and powerful while the other was nearly inaudible. Holly remained perfectly still as the two humans passed right by her. She tracked them carefully with a wary gaze. They were both impeccably dressed, far too well to be locals, and were of the Caucasian variety, but what struck Holly most was the sheer difference between them. The large man was absolutely colossal, and he carried himself with the iron certitude of a trained killer. The other, a boy, was slight and precise, bearing a demeanor that, even to Holly's fleeting glance, seemed unlike someone his age. When they passed her, the mountainous man glanced in her direction, giving her a glimpse of his dark blue eyes—almost black, and filled with steel. She dared not move, but they did not notice her, and as they passed the boy spoke in perfect, unaccented English.

"I am glad this distasteful excursion yielded adequate results, Butler. It was certainly not a fool's errand like Cairo."

The large man, clearly a bodyguard, spoke stoically. "As I said, sir, Nguyen is a good man."

"A greedy man, and most certainly not a good one," the boy corrected. "However, he was sufficiently reliable. Twenty-thousand dollars can always be trusted to bring out the best in worms like him." He paused, brushing a few specks of dust from his dark suit. "This Armani will be a lost cause by the time we abscond from this place. This city is as repulsive as it is convoluted…"

"Of course, sir." The large man was seemingly content to agree with everything the boy said, as if he was bound to him by some imperceptible power. "The flight leaves in three hours, sir. If you like I can acquire a replacement en route."

"That will not be necessary," the boy stated coldly. "I feel that no matter what I wear I will feel thoroughly defiled. Just ensure that those nitwitted customs officers refrain from extorting me out of my Panerai—it is the only thing that has not depreciated in value in this repulsive air..."

By this time the two humans were out of sight and at the far end of the alleyway, and that was all Holly could overhear of their peculiar conversation. The thought that those two had somehow beaten her to her objective struck her, but after a second she swatted it aside. It was inconceivable that the humans could unearth the People without first being lit up by one of Foaly's surveillance bugs. Focusing once again on her mission, the elven captain glanced around the corner, surveying the alley beyond. It was empty at first glance, but she knew that there was usually more to something than what a perfunctory look yielded. Keeping to more solid ground to avoid making footprints, the elf started down the gloomy lane. She could feel the shadow of the buildings looming above her, and the oppressive walls on both sides made her uneasy—it was a very tight space, dangerously so. The sooner she secured the objective the better.

She found the objective halfway down the alleyway, only a few meters off from the marker she had been provided—not that bad. It was beneath a rusted fire escape, hidden in the shadows, and when Holly set her eyes on it she stopped. A decrepit hovel made out of black cloth lay before her, its contents hidden in darkness. But Holly did not even need to use her thermals to see if anyone was inside. She could hear something writhing within, and she could smell the stench of alcohol. Furthermore, there was the distinct feeling in her chest that indicated the presence of another magical being. With all of this to go by, the captain stepped forward, still shielded and with one hand cautiously resting on her neutrino.

Holly did not speak as she knelt down by the opening. She looked into the shadows, and saw her objective, Freyja Lámfada, convulsing in a pool of her own filth. The sprite was a pathetic sight, all gnarled and filthy as she shuddered for some unknown reason. Her bright eyes, a luminous gold, were wide open, staring at nothing as she convulsed. Then, after a moment of this, she went still, though not dead. Holly regarded her worriedly. Freyja breathed raggedly as she lay on a raffia mat. Around her were empty rice wine bottles and jugs of all sorts, some sinking into the mud she slept in, and alongside them she lay, with one hand pressed into the damp earth as if she too would one day be swallowed up by the desolation. It was a wretched sight, and Holly wondered what the hell had just happened to her. Her body had been purging something, that was for certain, but what and why? There was really no time for questions, as Holly soon realized. The sound of footfalls echoed down the narrow alleyway, and soon that of voices. The elven captain quickly turned around, her neutrino drawn, but the humans she heard were not heading her direction. After watching them leave, she felt relieved, though not enough to be at ease. No matter what, an officer could not feel safe when humans were close at hand—it was a rule of thumb.

After making sure that no one was coming her way, Holly returned her attention to Freyja, kneeling down by the opening to her hovel. The sprite had not moved at all, and it seemed that she would remain in a catatonic state for a long time, but as the elven captain reached a hand towards her she twitched, and then moaned something unintelligible. Her eyes were closed, and her face was slowly contorting into a pained expression. Holly, still invisible to her other, spoke softly.

"Freyja, can you hear me? Are you alright?"

No answer came but for a pathetic whimper. Holly glanced around again, noting that she was somewhat hidden beneath the shadow of the fire escape. She was taking a huge risk in doing so, but she switched off her shield, revealing herself to the sprite that lay before her. Once again she tried to reach towards her, and once again she spoke softly.

"Freyja, I have come to take you home. Please, listen to me."

With a suddenness that made Holly reach for her weapon, the sprite's eyes shot open and her whole body went rigid with emotion. She stared in Holly's direction, but she did not seem to see her—she was looking past her, into some other place, perhaps another time entirely.

"H…home?" she rasped, her face quivering. Tears were glistening in her golden eyes, and all of the sudden, albeit a bit less unexpectedly, she broke down completely. It was a terrible collapse in psychological soundness, an utter implosion of the mind, as in less than five seconds after hearing Holly's voice she was sitting with her head in her hands, trembling as if stricken by a frigid wind, and babbling nonsense like a lunatic. Soon the gibberish turned into actual words, the same ones uttered over and over with an insane, mindless devotion.

"I killed them…I killed them…I killed them…"

Holly watched with a sad expression as the sprite repeated that pitiful statement. The rumors had been true—the only thing that had been keeping her from losing her mind was the welcome distraction of being inebriated. Long ago she had turned to drink to keep herself from losing control, and she had become dependent on it; for some reason, she was not under its influence now. And with a clear, unimpeded mind, Freyja's memories—all the regrets and horrors—seemed to be coming back to her, shattering her fragile sanity and rendering her into little more than a wreck, sitting in filth and sobbing like a child. It was then that Holly knew that she had been wrong about her assumption of Freyja's innocence. The incident had indeed been her fault—an agony of her sort could not be from any source than a debilitating regret. Holly felt for the tormented sprite, and as she beheld her brokenness, she sighed deeply. She had never seen someone so completely undone, so unraveled, so torn apart.

"Please," she said gently, extending her hand. "Let me help you."

For the first time the sprite looked Holly in the eye, seeing the elf rather than the images that haunted her—snapping out of the madness if but for a second. She seemed dazed, as if all of her memory of the last week had been swatted out of her head. It took her a moment to sputter a response, and it was uttered with a voice like sandpaper. "I…can't go back…"

"Yes you can," Holly urged. "You can make this right!"

"There's nothing left to make right," the sprite croaked, slouching a little, like a balloon losing air. She shuddered, caught between sanity and insanity, preyed upon by fear and sorrow. "What do you want from me, elf?" she managed to rasp, her voice quivering just as much as her ruined features.

"I want to help you!"

The old sprite looked Holly in the eye, a glimmer of clarity in her own. She had come to a conclusion in spite of her madness. "Then please…just let me die…"

Holly saw the look on her face, and knew what was about to happen. Her gaze went to the sprite's right hand, which was partially buried in the mud, where a slight glimmer of glass could be seen clutched in the palm. Broken glass, a shard of the many bottles she had drunk from. "Oh no you don't!" Holly growled. She moved without a shred of hesitation or fear, wrapping her left arm around the sprite before she could stab herself. She pulled her close. This brought them eye to eye, and as Holly stared into the crazed golden gaze of Freyja, she felt the sprite's glass shard strike her in the back over and over—instead of the sprite's intended target, her own throat. It was to no avail, of course, and it merely shattered on her suit's reinforced fibers. Though even with the makeshift shank destroyed, the sprite kept trying, her lunacy making her oblivious to reason or even the fact that the glass had broken and was now slicing into her palm. Holly waited patiently until the poor fairy lost her strength.

With a pitiful whimper, Freyja gave up, her arms going limp and hanging at her sides like an unbound puppet's. Tears streamed from her eyes as she did this, and her voice began to mutter insane ramblings, just like before. Holly knew then that she had lost Freyja to the madness, but she did not fear it. Instead she held the trembling, sobbing fairy close, comforting her and ensuring that she could not hurt herself. A moment passed, and Holly remained still, feeling the frail, trembling body against hers—feeling its pain and uncertainty as her own. Their foreheads were touching, and Holly never looked away from the crazed golden eyes that were inches from her own. She looked into the depths of their brokenness, and whispered gently.

"I am sorry."

Holly had her neutrino in her right hand, and it was pressed against Freyja's gut. She pulled the trigger, and felt the sprite go limp in her arms. Holstering her weapon once again, she gently laid the unconscious fairy down on the raffia mat, all the while whispering to her in a soothing voice. "Rest now, Freyja. I will get you help, I promise."

With the target secured and no longer posing a danger to herself, it was nigh time to leave. Holly made sure that she was still alone, and then used a medical scanner to check the fairy's vitals. Everything appeared fine, even her blood levels, which had not an iota of alcohol in them. Purged indeed, and despite what this meant for her bet Holly did not smile at all. _Looks like Foaly owes me some carrot juice._ A thought struck her then, one of such paramount importance that she forgot everything around her. She quickly searched the unconscious sprite. After a few second she found what she was looking for: The Book. The tiny, gold book seemed luminous as she took it out and regarded it. Even after all these years, no one had stolen it from her, even though it was the only thing of remote value that she carried. That was good news. Holly breathed a sigh of relief, and then spoke into her mic.

"The package is secure. I will be moving to rendezvous in five."

" _Roger that, Captain,"_ the waiting retrieval team replied.

Once again Holly placed her attention on the ruined fairy, seeing that there was pain in her expression even though she was not conscious. What sort of nightmares were raging in that poor sprite's head? It gave rise to sympathy in Holly's heart—for she too had been tormented like her, by the loss of her mother—and with that emotion guiding her hands she gently moved the sprite and began wrapping her in cam foil. When that was done, she secured her to a harness, and attached it to her moonbelt. She stood tall afterwards, activating her shield and stepping out into the middle of the narrow alleyway. It was a tight fit, but she could fly out of there. However, before she took off to bring Freyja to whatever future fate had in store for her, she paused and looked down at the now invisible body. "Living may be a pain in ass, Freyja, but it beats the hell out of dying." As she started up her wings, she glared up at the hazy sky, that morbid but valid thought ringing in her mind. "Trust me on that…"

With a burst of motion, Holly boosted her wings and rose into the air, out from the suffocating grip of the alleyway and into the open, where a blue sky was there to greet her. It was such a change in surroundings, as if by leaving that gloomy place she had left a whole world of darkness behind and entered one of pure, unassailable light. It was profound, the resultant sensation, but her thoughts did not linger on it. She had work to do, and the life of the sprite that dangled from her moonbelt was in her care. As was her duty in life, she wanted to protect that which was hers to protect; to save life, not destroy it. When she was clear of the buildings, she opened up full throttle and set a course for the rendezvous point, leaving in her dust the city of Ho Chi Minh and the duo of humans who she was destined to meet again.

 **Cộng Hòa Street, Ho Chi Minh City**

 _Finally, after all this time…_

The boy Holly had encountered sat in the back of a heavily upgraded Mercedes, his left leg crossed neatly over his right and a perfectly impassive expression on his young, pale face. His raven black hair and startling blue eyes contrasted greatly with his ghostly pallor, accentuating the alabaster shade of his skin; he was unnaturally so, as if most of his waking hours were spent in a gloomy study observing screens rather than sunlight. This was true of course, and he did not care one iota about it. As young as he was, appearances only mattered in their precise adherence to his own strict set of rules, and the color of his skin was irrelevant in that respect. He had learned it all from his father, and now it was ingrained in his mind as a natural order that could not be violated. Absentmindedly brushing the shoulder of his Armani suit, he gazed out the window to see the city of Ho Chi Mihn flashing by. Despite how much he despised the place, he was at least content with its fruitful yielding of results—sans the repulsive filth it left upon him and his attire. After five previous attempts—all colossal failures—he had attained the key to another world, a precious tool to use for his grand scheme. Giving the sprite fresh water from Terra and a cleansing potion in exchange for the book had been the best business transaction he had ever made. Even now he held it in his palm; the digital camera he had used to take a snapshot of each and every page of the sprite's Book. _The fairy bible…_

The search for this treasure had started two years ago, when his interest in fairies took off. It did not take him long to find indications of the existence of the People, and with that knowledge he was hooked, set on an irreversible path towards what he perceived to be the most important goal of his life. It was rather simple, with complex consequences, and it all boiled down to remorseless exploitation. But before that, he needed knowledge—power. "Know thine enemy" was his motto, after all, so it was his intention to know the People better than they knew themselves. The key to that power was in his hand, and he was determined to translate it.

A bump in the road did not remotely scatter his thoughts on the matter. He continued to gaze out the window, watching the city go by and seeing countless lives all separate from his own. They were all irrelevant to him, all nothing more than accoutrements of a world he saw as his to bend and shape to his advantage. There was a profound coldness in his heart, one that the warm climate had yet to taint. He was bereft of sympathy, goodwill, even common morals. And he was only twelve years old.

After his thoughts were sufficiently dealt with, he set his eyes on the looming man who sat in the driver's seat. That was his bodyguard, Butler, one of the most deadly people in the world and, arguably, the only one proficient enough with inanimate objects to be able to take down three armed assassins with little more than a garden hose and a piece of string. He had been around for as long as the boy could remember, and not once had he failed in his duty to protect him. If there was any comfort for this criminal mastermind in a world so rife with danger, it was that Butler would take a bullet before he did. The man was the only one he could really depend upon, and the only one he wanted to; after all, the more one depended on others, the more one became susceptible to weakness. Ultimately, the boy had only one choice of who to trust fully in his life, and he chose Butler. His parents, however much he respected and revered them, could not give rise to the same feeling. Though he never admitted it, he could far easier confide in Butler than with his own father, let alone his mentally deranged mother. The stoic bodyguard was probably the closest thing he had to a real father, whereas his biological one seemed like a master of sorts, a powerful being whose love and devotion to family was trumped by business. Business…it was just business, nothing personal, all in the best interest of the Family. This is what he told himself whenever his childish mind questioned the upbringing he had survived—the childhood that had given him premature lines on his face, and a premature callousness in his very soul. When that question surfaced in his mind as he sat in the back of the car, he merely applied his thoughts to something else.

They were presently en route to Tan Son Nhat International Airport. There they would board a flight that would take them to Heathrow via a Bangkok connection. As the airport loomed in the distance, Artemis eyed the position of the sun and then checked his watch—exactitude was what he desired in all things—and then sat back against the cushioned seat of the rented vehicle to rest. It was one in the afternoon, and fourteen hours of intercontinental transit loomed before him. In fourteen hours he would be in London, where it would be eight in the evening, and it would be a little later by the time he reached Dublin, and then Fowl Manor. That left him plenty of time to get work done. _There is so much to be done, so many secrets to unravel…_

The boy felt an odd excitement in his chest, a rising enthusiasm that he found odd. It was a childish giddiness, a nonsensical response to his success, and he squashed it without mercy. There was no time for being a child. He never saw himself as one of those underdeveloped, blathering fools that society lumped him with. He despised them, all of them, perceiving them as completely inconsequential to his own existence. He was so full of hate. Its dark veil hung over his mind all the time, tingeing his thoughts with poison. But it was a poison he was used to, so it did not impede him whatsoever. If anything, it further amplified the power of his ambition. This ambition was aimed directly at the People and the wealth they possessed.

As he flipped through the images on the digital camera's screen, he began to flush out more and more of his plan. He would unravel the secrets of the Book, decipher its language, and with that knowledge as his power, he would exploit the People and bend them to his will. He knew that they would not just acquiesce—they were a proud race—but he was not some two-bit criminal looking for a payday. He was Artemis Fowl the Second, heir to the centuries old crime syndicate that had dominated the criminal underworld, and likely the most intelligent person on the surface of the planet. The fact that he was twelve years old meant nothing. At ten he had done that which no one else could do, and now he intended to go even farther, crossing lines and Rubicons like no other, defying the very power of a magical race. This ambitious goal should have at least made him wary, daunted, but instead he merely smiled a vampiric smile, revealing the white of his teeth that almost matched his pale skin. He sensed a real challenge coming, and he was determined to succeed. There was too much at stake to fail now.

 _Fairies, how wonderfully ridiculous_ , he thought as he remembered the inebriated sprite he had bribed. He had never really doubted their existence, even when Butler did. Despite his harsh upbringing, he had retained a childlike belief in magic, and in his present state it was tempered by an adult determination to exploit it. Now he had proof to back up this hypothesis. The book he had found on the sprite was genuine, he knew that for certain, and just by regarding the script it contained he was able to determine without a shred of doubt that he had struck gold—a present metaphor with a future, literal meaning. It was gold that he was after in the end, though his reasons for wanting it were not so cut and dry. Nothing he did was for simple gain. Everything was part of a strategy.

Artemis Fowl felt quite content as the minutes passed and as his intellect took on the first stages of the plan he had formulated. Little did he know that half an hour ago he had been within arm's reach of what he would soon be hunting for: an LEP officer, and a recon captain to boot. Fate was a fickle mistress, and luck was just as treacherous, but it would seem that both of those forces were moving in his favor. He would have his day, and that very same LEP captain he had walked past would be the most profound change in his life. Oblivious to this, he merely smiled and set the digital camera aside, focusing on the complex images in his mind's eye.

 _You had best loosen your grip on your fortunes, my magical counterparts. It shall be mine in the end, all of it._ His cold blue eyes gaze upon the sunny world, into the cloudless sky where Captain Short had flown. _You shall know and fear the name of Artemis Fowl the Second._


	24. Where It All Began

**County Wexford, Ireland**

The deepening night cast the vibrant fields of southeastern Ireland in a sleepy gloom, one that was soothing and at peace with the world it settled upon—a soft veil of darkness that gave respite from the troubles that loomed in daylight. The shadows of the night and the noiselessness of the fields all melded together as the moon and stars slowly moved across the heavens, casting their gentle light upon the dormant villages and the quaint homesteads that dotted the patchwork landscape of farms and meadows. The whole world was slumbering, it would seem, and in that rest there was a sense of profound peace, a feeling of certainty. The trees and the meadows, the creatures in the fields, and the humans in their abodes, none of them questioned the certainty of the night passing by and giving way to morning—and a new day. And so everything lay at rest, willing to sleep until that rising hour came, letting all troubles and fears slide away in the bliss of dreamful slumber—well, almost everything. There were creatures still that walked the meadows and perused the glittering streams, or flew above on noiseless wings. Others waited in silence, predators stalking prey in the beautiful gloom of the midnight realm, and among them was the most feared hunter of all.

 _From the earth thine power flows. Given through courtesy, so thanks are owed. Pluck thou the magick seed, where full moon, ancient oak and twisted water meet. And bury it far from where it was found, so return your gift into the ground…_ Artemis thought this passage from the fairy Book as he eyed the great oak that loomed above him. Further upwards glowed a full moon, whose silver rays made the meandering brook behind the boy glimmer like a stream of tumbling gems. It was a beautiful scene, but Artemis observed it with a calculating gaze, seeing only the important facts about the conditions to deduce that everything was perfect for another night of patience. To his right Butler worked away at setting up a foil-lined blind within which to monitor the area. He was as stoic as ever, though Artemis knew full well that he was beginning to dread the whole ordeal. That could not be helped. After all, they had conducted stakeouts for four months with no success. Despite being a consummate professional, Butler doubted his master, though never outwardly. Butler's sister, Juliet, had been more vocal in her doubts, much to the former's unease. Of course, Artemis could not hold it against them for not believing in it. Neither of them had been as invested as he in the research, nor did they have any need to find these fairies. He, on the other hand, had bet everything from his future to his pride upon it. And he knew that he was right. Butler and Juliet would understand that soon, and unlike most people, they were worthy of his forgiveness.

 _Soon…_ Artemis thought, envisioning his goal—to capture a live fairy. Not just any fairy would do of course. Capturing the fairy in Ho Chi Minh had not been a viable option, given the possibility that her life—being that of an outcast—would not be worth enough for the People to hand over a king's ransom. What Artemis needed was fresh blood, and preferably important blood. That's what he was on the hunt for, and that's what he intended to catch.

Tonight was yet another one of those sleepless nights of waiting. This time they were just west of Clohamon, where the Clody River meandered through the lush Irish fields. It had been a vexatious hike into the spot, but it was the best location yet, and as Artemis supervised the speedy deployment of their camouflaged hiding place—an ingenious blind that had caught the interest of a number of foreign militaries—he nodded contently. It would mask their heat signatures from any animals present, and it was designed to meld with any undulations in the ground. It was perfect, just as Artemis had created it to be. It took mere seconds to deploy, and when it was ready, the two humans settled in for a fifth night of monitoring the spot.

"The proximity sensors are all calibrated and online," Butler stated as he lifted the blind so that Artemis could enter without getting anything on his attire.

"Excellent," Artemis said, getting into position inside the blind. "Now we wait. There may be only a one in a thousand chance, but that is a chance nonetheless. I will not give up until my persistence bears fruit. It is simple probability, after all..."

The mountainous bodyguard nodded, betraying none of the sympathy he was feeling for the poor boy—a lonely child whose life had been thrown into chaos by the loss of his father. He merely slung his rifle over his shoulder and entered the blind after his charge, saying not a word as he crouched beside the boy. Soon the silence of the night took over, and in that silence they waited.

Artemis watched the oak tree with his cold gaze, inwardly keeping track of time as it slipped by. Time…that was something that he had plenty to spare, but there was someone else in his life who may have run out long ago. Artemis Fowl Senior, the leader of the family business, had been taken hostage by the Russian Mafia years ago, leaving the family in a crisis. Artemis was fiercely loyal to his father, and only recently did he cease watching the myriad of screens in his study for news of a rescue. The fact that he had never really been fatherly to him did not matter; he wanted to save him. But he had all but given up at this point, coming to terms with the fact that his father was likely dead. That left the family business in his hands, including its crisis. After Artemis Sr. was taken the family fortune fell into peril, leaving them bereft of their billionaire status and weak in comparison to the other syndicates. It was Artemis' intention to restore their fortunes through fairy gold—not stolen of course, but given out of free will in exchange for a hostage. When that was accomplished, he could find out once and for all what had happened to his father, but only then. He needed power more than anything to satisfy his ambitions. Many say that power comes out of the barrel of a gun, and that was certainly true to Artemis, but he also knew that gold could buy those guns and direct them elsewhere. That was the ideology behind the family motto.

 _Aurum Potestas Est…_

Gold is power, and it was a power that Artemis intended to wield. It did not matter to him that he had to go to war with an entire race in order to attain it. He would do so gladly if it meant accomplishing his goal. And so he waited, becoming a silent hunter in the mystical night, fully prepared to kick off a historic and dastardly act—the likes of which the world had never seen.

* * *

Captain Holly Short saw the sleeping world from above, watching it speed past her as she flew through the crisp night air, as free as a bird in the starlit sky. The lights of cities and towns glittered in the distance, but beneath her in the fields was nothing but calming serenity, where meadows and forests gently swayed in the cool night breeze. It was good to be in Ireland again, a place that she had grown fond of over the years. It was the most magical place on the surface, after all, and it was the cradle of the People's long, proud history. Her affinity for it was as natural as it was meditated, and as she brushed over treetops and followed the meandering silver bands of rivers, she felt all of the tension and weariness in her mind and body subside.

It had been a long night for the elven captain, one filled with many close calls and ultimately a debacle in Southern Italy. All of it revolved around a troll showing up at a human gathering, causing quite a bit of havoc and forcing Holly to take action while the humans were present. According to Root it had been a total mess, a grade-A fiasco, but Holly did not see it that way. By her efforts the troll was pacified, and no one had been killed—which, when it came to bull troll encounters, was a pretty favorable outcome. In the end the LEP had to send a team of officers to deal with the dozens of humans who needed to be relieved of certain memories, and Holly had faced her commander's crimson countenance without any apology. Needless to say, he had uttered his usual string of fiery threats, including the ever-ominous threat of being relegated to drain duty for a few hundred years. However, in the end Root had shown what was perhaps his real view of the matter, almost giving her a compliment for her life-saving heroics. That was about as close as one ever got to being praised by the old commander, and Holly took it—you never leaved it when it came to that.

After this whole ordeal, Holly had realized that her magic levels were running low. Root, upon realizing this, had ordered her to perform the ritual before returning to Haven—literally telling her to not show her face until she was full to the tips of her ears with magic. That was fine by her. Any excuse to fly at night was a good one, and to be ordered to take a long flight from Italy to Ireland with the commander's blessing was a rarity. As such, Holly had enjoyed her flight, slicing through the cool air while a full moon gleamed against the dark backdrop of the firmament. Now she was reaching the end of it, homing in on her chosen ritual site. There were a number of them within range, but given the full moon, they would be inundated with traditionalist revelers—the sort whose tendencies did not agree with the captain. Her site was a remote one, at least as remote as it could get in Ireland's farmlands. She arrived after a few more minutes of low-level flight, though she did not land right away. Circling above, she checked her sensors for irregularities and then scanned for life forms. When the only mammal present turned out to be a cow in a nearby field, the elven captain switched off the scanner and swooped in for a landing.

The silver thread of a river sliced between the lush green fields of grass. Trees and meadows lined both of its sides, like garments for the otherwise naked channel of delicate crystalline water, and the way the moonlight danced off of its surface was truly dreamlike. As Holly closed in, she eyed the fold of one of the meandering loops, and saw within it the magnificent figure of an old oak. It got larger and larger as she approached, until it loomed before her like a giant. With a respectful care that was motivated by the presence of this ancient oak, Holly cut her engines and glided silently to the base of the tree, landing on the soft grass without a sound.

The damp grass yielded beneath her boots, little droplets of water running along them as they were disturbed by her intrusion. Without a word she powered down her wings, and then took them off of her flight suit. After hanging them over a low branch, she unsealed her helmet and removed it, letting the fresh night air touch her face and fill her lungs. It was invigorating to feel the world around her, its dampness and life, the very presence of tranquility in the air. It instilled a great calm within her, and made her smile ever so slightly. She then looked up at the ancient oak, listening as its crackling leaves accompanied the gentle whisper of the nearby river. There was another reason that she had chosen this site, a reason that trumped all others.

If she remembered correctly, this was the oak tree her mother had taken her to more than sixty years ago, when she had been nothing more than a child. That was where she had held her first acorn, and seen for the first time the wondrous beauty of the surface. She had been so innocent back then; the knowledge of humanity and the dangers of the surface was not yet hers, and so that visit had been as blissful as it was amazing. To have that feeling again was impossible, but Holly still smiled, remembering what it had been like, and thanking the stars that she had been given that happiness as a child. She did not yearn for the past that was gone, even though a part of her was inclined to do so; she had long since come to terms with those ghosts of her life. Instead she looked forward, towards her own future, and yearned for a world in which that sort of happiness could grow for others. She wanted to change the world for the better, so that others lives, not hers, could be free of the fear and the darkness that she had witnessed through her career. And, perhaps, one day she could return to this tree with a family of her own. It was a rare thought forward, _too_ far forward, and she quickly set it aside, finding that the oak's rustling leaves had given rise to far more than she had expected. Nevertheless, she remained in its presence, standing beneath its might, remembering her past and feeling the peace of the natural world flow through her. It was a profound experience that took all but a few moments, but for Holly it felt like more than that. With a content smile, she put her helmet down in the grass and put her focus on what she had to do. There would be plenty of time to think and enjoy the night once her business was done.

A seed was what she needed, and being below an oak, it was not that hard to find one. Without any rush to her motions, she bent to the ground and brushed aside the dried leaves and twigs that covered its surface. A smooth acorn was soon grasped in her hand. _That wasn't hard now, was it?_ She just needed to plant the acorn somewhere distant in order for the Ritual to be complete. Why not a few fields over? That's what she planned on doing as she stood up and walked towards the tree, but then she caught sight of another acorn laying upon the grass, one so perfect in its gleaming reflection of the moon's light that it reminded her of the first time she had picked one up over sixty years ago; a time when childish wonder and innocence had made it seem so much more brilliant than it was. It was when she suddenly bent down to pick it up that she heard a projectile hiss over her head. It missed her by an inch, and its metallic form flashed in the moonlight before disappearing in the foliage.

Holly burst into action the moment she heard it, dropping to the ground while at the same time drawing her neutrino. Without pause she rolled toward the shelter of the looming oak, all the while wondering who the hell was shooting at her. She shot up to her feet with her weapon extended in the direction the projectile had come from, her hazel eyes luminous in the moonlight and narrowed in a look of determination. All she saw was thin air, but she quickly noticed a massive shadow towering beside the tree in her peripheral vision—a shadow of such proportions that _mountainous_ was the only suitable word.

"Nice peashooter," said the massive shadow, reaching out with lightning speed and grabbing her gun hand before she could react. Its enormous fingers wrapped around her own, but she thought quickly and escaped its grip just seconds before it could crush every bone in her hand. She drew back, glaring up at the massive human, who towered over her with a grin on his intimidating face. It was then that she heard a familiar voice, one that she had not forgotten even after six months.

"I don't suppose you would consider peaceful surrender?"

It was a cold voice, chilling in every way, and Holly knew its owner even before she spun about to meet him. When she did she came eye to eye with the same boy she had seen in the streets of Ho Chi Minh City all those months ago, his demeanor unchanged and his blue eyes—still faintly visible behind his sunglasses—showing the same heartlessness that seemed so horribly out of place in a child. Their gazes met, blue and hazel, and with a placid tone the boy sighed.

"No, I suppose not…"

 _D'arvit, what the hell is this?!_ Holly thought as she stood in a fighting stance. There was a defiant look on her face, one that would make most people take a step back. But the boy in front of her merely watched her, with the faintest of smirks on his young yet paradoxically mature features. "Stay back, human," she growled, "You don't know what you're dealing with!"

The threat bounced off of the boy like a rubber ball. He laughed. "I believe, fairy, that you are the one unfamiliar with the facts."

When Holly heard the boy use her species name, fairy, she felt a shard of dread charge through her confidence. This human knew what she was. She had to do something. "I have magic, mud-worm," she rasped, matching his unsettling gaze despite how cold it made her feel. "Enough to turn you and your gorilla into pig droppings."

Despite every indication that he was in danger, the boy took a step towards her. "Brave words, miss. But lies nonetheless." He stopped again, his expression one of perfect confidence. "If, as you say, you had magic, you would have no doubt used it by now. No, I suspect that you have gone too long without the Ritual and you are here to replenish your powers."

Holly felt an ever expanding pit of dread in her chest, now tinged by fear for her kin. For such knowledge to be possessed by a human, and a dangerous one at that, was a total breach of the People's national security. And this boy was listing them off with a coolness that made it clear that it was only the tip of the iceberg when it came to his knowledge of the fairy race. The implications were astounding and horrid, especially for her, because as a soldier she understood exactly the sort of outcome the People's discovery would yield. War on a global scale, an interspecies struggle that would turn the very planet into nothing more than ash. She clenched her teeth together in anger. That could not be allowed to happen, not while she was still breathing! She had no choice but to use the _Mesmer_.

Using every last drop of magic she had in her body, the elven captain summoned her powers and spoke commandingly to the human before her, trying to keep her own fear out of her voice. "Human, you will is mine."

The boy, whose name was Artemis Fowl, smiled with such self-assurance that it made the elf's blood freeze. "I doubt it." He gave a curt nod to Holly's right, and then the faint sound of a discharged dart filled the tranquil air.

Holly was struck before she could even blink. The dart punched clean through her suit's reinforced material, sinking into her right shoulder and depositing a healthy dose of curare and succinylcholine chloride-based tranquilizer. Its effects were instantaneous, dissolving the world around her into a storm of twisted colors and knocking every shred of power from her mind and body. She could not think straight, nor could she even speak—all of her cognitive abilities flowed from her like water through a bullet-riddled tub. The only thing that she could do was wonder, over and over, how the two humans knew what they did about the People. _How did they know? How did they know? How did they…_ Her thoughts trailed off as her legs gave out, and with one last shudder of fear, she fell to the ground, feeling nothing but a cold numbness overwhelming her entire body.

This marked the beginning of the Fowl Incident, the most unexpected and historic act to be taken against the People in thousands of years. For Holly, it was the beginning of something truly profound, and no matter how hard she would think about it, nothing could prepare her for what would come of that encounter beneath the gently swaying oak. How little she knew then, as she lost consciousness, what that boy would mean to her in the future, and what they accomplish as friends, not enemies. The same went for Artemis. His life, just as Holly's, would be shaped by that of another. And he would be saved by it, pulled from the brink by the nearly impossible odds of capturing the one fairy who could truly save him from himself.


	25. Anew

**County Wexford, Ireland**

Years passed, and over that passage of time the ancient oak did not change; save a few less branches on its enormous bulk, its towering form persisted, resilient against the very power of the ages. Neither did the meadow drastically change, nor the glittering stream of crystalline water; years of death and renewal kept the foliage at a near constant level, just as nature intended, and the gentle creek had only widened a little. Despite how close it was to human civilization, this place remained untouched, as if it was protected by its very beauty, sacred in its natural wonder. Of course, that's how it was in this part of the Irish countryside, where its people held a great respect for nature, and most certainly for the relics of the old world. The ancient oak was a perfect example of natural heritage. This tree had witnessed the very history of Ireland, all of its struggles, losses, and triumphs, and it was by that ageless wisdom that it was powerful. No one dared to harm it, and many, including the landowner whose will preserved it amidst the constant expansion of civilization, fantasized about what it had been through. If trees could talk, what stories they would tell!

It was on a calm spring morning that Holly Short returned to this place, gliding in on her wings just as she had done all those years ago, landing silently at the base of the oak with the soft grass yielding beneath her boots. Without pause she removed her wings and hung them on a low branch. In every move there was a familiarity, a precious memory, and as she took off her helmet and looked up at the ancient tree, she smiled the most genuine of smiles. No matter what happened to her in life, no matter where her journeys took her, she could always come back to this place and feel, for what felt the first time, a completely unreserved happiness. That was the power that the memories held, and how precious they were; the memories of where it all began.

Ten years had passed since that fateful encounter, and yet as she stood upon the ground where she and Artemis had met she could envision it with perfect clarity, as if it was only yesterday. Some things faded over time in memory, losing details or mutating into something untrue, but this one was perfect, crystalline in its recollection. She could remember the surprise, the fear, and the outright anger that she had felt back then, when a mere boy had outsmarted her. The feeling of the dart, the whirling chaos of her mind, and the voice—the cold, confident voice—of Artemis Fowl the Second, it was all so easy to recall. It had truly been one of the most terrible moments of her life, yet now, after so many unexpected turns of fate, she looked back on it with a content grin. It was truly funny to her, because all of her fears back then had been misplaced; the Holly Short in those days had had not even the slightest clue what would become of their relationship. How little she knew back then just how important that boy would become, not only to the People, but to her.

The thought of Artemis made the elf's grin widen a little, while at the same time lines of sadness wrinkled the skin by her eyes. It was bittersweet to look at this place and remember what was. After all that had happened over the years, she was now left with a situation that was hers to deal with, but painful in spite of her confidence to do so. After all, the Artemis Fowl she knew was gone…at least for the time being…

A year had passed since the near apocalyptic struggle against Opal Koboi who, in her attempts to unleash the ancient Berserkers upon humanity, had gained god-like power and brought total war to the People and Fowl Manor. She had intended to unlock the gate—the magical circle that entombed the spirits of the fairy warriors—and use them to her own dark aims. She had almost accomplished that goal, coming within a hair's breadth of total victory. The only reason she did not was because of Artemis. Holly could remember all of it with startling clarity, and it made her shudder even as the warms rays of sunlight touched her face. In that time she had been faced with one of the most terrible moments of her life, one that seemed to parallel with the death of her mother. Back then, a year ago, she had lost Artemis. In his heroic actions he had placed himself in incredible danger. When the gate was closed it sucked in the spirits of all of the fairy creatures that had been involved, and Artemis had been among them, solely because of the fairy eye he possessed—solely because he had Holly's hazel eye alongside his blue. His very life was sucked out of him, stolen away by an ancient power, and it was because of that part of Holly that had become part of him. To see him die before her very eyes, on that fateful day, was an experience that nearly shattered Holly's mind. The grief, the regret, the anger, and the self-loathing that she had felt were truly incomprehensible, so potent that they rendered all of her strength powerless, piercing her to the core. And she had blamed herself for it, just as she had once cursed her very existence for the death of her mother. There was no greater sorrow than to lose like that.

As Holly looked back on this heartbreaking experience, she slowly touched her forehead, where Artemis had kissed her before going off and getting himself killed. _And I once said his elf kissing days were over…_ It made her smile, the feeling easy to recall. That gesture had been the only thing that gave hope in that dark time. The DNA in that kiss, as Artemis had instructed, was used in conjunction with the chrysalis device to clone him perfectly. Holly had been quite uncertain then, so broken by her anger and sorrow, but the slightest chance of reviving her friend was enough to pull her back from the brink. Six months after watching him die, she took his cloned body to the exact spot where he fell and saw once again the fruition of his brilliant planning. The reversal of the magic that took his soul brought him back, albeit into a cloned body, and suddenly Holly found herself looking down upon his wondrous blue eyes. She'd thought she would never see them so open again, but there they were, open wide and startling in their intelligent glimmer. That moment had been like no other. To regain Artemis, after losing him so tragically, was a dream come true—a dream that she had once had for Coral, but to no avail. Having lost so much in her life, it was startling to take something back from the very jaws of death. It was miraculous.

The sad lines on Holly's face deepened a little as her thoughts lingered on Artemis. She had been so happy when he breathed his first breathes in his new life, and at the same time she had been torn to realize that he did not know who she was. His memories had been taken from him, all of his years of adventure alongside her somehow nonexistent to him, and so his first words to her had been unexpected.

" _Stay back…You don't know what you're dealing with…"_

It made her chuckle a little. Full circle, that's how it went, that he should say to her what she had first said to him ten years ago… It was poetic, if that's what the gods intended, but also in what she perceived to be poor taste. There was always a new trial beyond the summit of every hill, and from the moment Holly witnessed her friend's revival there were constant trials, all of them centered on his health.

Being revived into a cloned body was no easy process, and it did not result in the instant vitality that being alive should give rise to. Artemis was weak beyond his years, bedridden and hooked up to a myriad of medical equipment, looking to be an inch within the limits of his life at every moment. It was terrible to see him that way, but Holly never shied away from it. Instead she sat by his side for hours each day, fiercely loyal, always there for him. As she did so she inwardly prayed that it would not be like the last time, when she had sat beside her mother in her final, brutal days—she could not bear something like that ever again. Thankfully it was not going to be like that. As Foaly and the other experts had made clear, he was not dying. Like any transplant, in this case a spirit-body transplant, there was a period of adjustment. Artemis just needed time.

In that time Holly had been harassing the young man with the intent of jogging his memory. Six months of such effort had yielded nothing at all, much to her frustration, but if there was one thing that she could do forever without giving up, it was trying to get _her_ Artemis back. Without so many memories he was incomplete, as he was bereft of the experiences that had molded him into the human she had grown to admire and adore. She was determined to bring those memories back, to make him whole again; how desperately she wanted to see him look her in the eye with that humorous smirk and say some smartass remark about her bedside mannerisms. No matter how long it took, she would see that dream become a reality. He would have never given up on her, and she sure as hell wouldn't give up on him, for she was too intertwined with him to give up even for a second—her very life was tied to his, like two trees linked to the same roots. Her hope to accomplish that goal had yet to waver, and it never would, because as long as they were both alive, there was a chance. In the end, where there is life, there is hope.

A gentle wave of wind passed through the immense branches of the oak tree, creating a symphony of rustling leaves and a rhythmic motion that seemed like the very image of contentment. Holly looked up at it, while the sun shined to her left with its warming brilliance. The rays of golden light touched the holstered omnitool on her belt, making the silver lettering on it flash brilliantly; all those years had not dulled that simple yet powerful inscription, nor had they seen Holly replace the tool that Coral had given her. Its presence was always with her, a reminder of that which guided her like a compass; and serving as a reminder of all those who she had lost and could not get back. Among them was the elf she had seen as a father, Julius Root. He had been gone for over six years, and yet it still hurt to think about him. Nothing could ever console her when it came to his death, nothing ever would. When Artemis had died she had lost part of herself, only to regain it when he returned. In Root—and also in her parents—she had lost something forever. It was as if they held those pieces of her heart and soul in their hands, waiting for her in the afterlife, so that when the time came they would be rejoined. To be whole again…

 _One day, but not yet…_ Holly was content to let that time come at its own leisure. She had no time to ponder death when it came to reap its harvest soon enough. Let it come all the same, but then and only then. In the meantime, she had a certain young genius to take care of—and a life to rebuild. It was a monumental undertaking, but she never let it bend her will, and there was also the fact that she was not alone. She had her friends, all those who had been alongside her and Artemis over the years of ridiculous undertakings. Butler and Juliet were there every step of the way, as was the rest of Artemis' close-knit family—Myles and Beckett, Father and Mother—providing constant support. Mulch, that kleptomaniac dwarf, would come and go, much to the young man's criminal interest—memories or not, they could contrive dastardly plans. Even Foaly, in spite of his busy pursuit of happiness with his own family, would humor Artemis on a daily basis. It was quite a sight to see the young man successfully outsmart the centaur even without his memories. Foaly did not let it get to him, however, and seemed to be hoping that each defeat of his own would help edge the young man closer to the memories he had lost. N°1, the demon warlock that Artemis had befriended years ago in Hybras, was the final link in the chain. He understood the boy's condition more than anyone, and knew as a matter of fact that there was a way to bring Artemis back completely. As he had described it, it was a matter of small steps, of infinitesimal gains, that would eventually lead to a landslide. It was just waiting for the moment when they would all come rushing back—like an observer gazing upon a clear night sky, waiting for the streak of shooting star. One day something would unexpectedly trigger than brilliant streak, but that day's coming was as unpredictable as the very happenings of life, adrift on a sea of chance. Until then, Holly had to wait, with the burden of it mounting on her heart with each passing day. But not alone. Her friends, these unique characters whose lives were also intertwined with the young man she waited on, were shouldering this burden, each one of them striving to help Artemis in their own way. The thought of it was enough to make Holly smile again, this time without the sad lines by her eyes. Together, they were going to make Artemis whole again, and that unity in purpose was what made all the difference in the world.

With these last few thoughts instilling comfort and certitude within her frayed mind, Holly took a few steps closer to the oak tree, focusing on the sights around her and letting all the stress and weariness within her heart ebb like the steady retreat of a tide. She put her right hand on the rough surface of the oak, feeling the life within and all the years it had flourished. Calmed by the feeling, she closed her eyes and let her mind rest still. When she opened them again, she caught a glint of something just a few meters ahead, beyond the tree where the dense grasses swayed in the breeze. It caught her attention, and when it flashed again she walked towards it, a part of her knowing what it was. When she reached the patch of long grass she brushed it aside, finding an old tree stump swallowed within, overgrown with moss to the point that it seemed luminous in its emerald green. And embedded in that mossy stump, shining with every ray of sunlight, was a familiar-looking dart. Reaching out slowly, she plucked it from the soft wood and held it high, eyeing it with a blue and hazel gaze. It was the first tranquilizer dart Butler had fired at her ten years ago, the one that had missed and alerted her to their presence. Seeing it now, after all of those years, was so unexpected that it made her laugh. It was like a window into the past.

Thinking of the mountainous bodyguard, she brushed some of the detritus from the dart and gently shoved it into her pocket. He would want it as a souvenir, perhaps as a piece of powerful inspiration for his lengthy sessions on the shooting range. After all, it represented one of the few times in his life he had actually missed. She could imagine the look on his face when he saw it, and the subsequent indignation of being reminded of that terrible miss—which had not been his fault, actually. But regardless, they would have a good laugh, merely because it was such a nostalgic item; though, he would be doing double-time on the shooting range for certain, just to ensure that his aim was as perfect as always. Holly saw it as a practical joke, and that sort of humor was what they all needed once and a while.

Standing up tall, the elf turned to look at the oak tree once again, seeing in its ageless form a profound reassurance. It was time for her to leave. But before she went to retrieve her wings, she crouched down and searched through the grass and leaves, until her hands closed around the smooth form of an acorn. She held it before her eyes, watching as the sunlight danced off of its pristine surface, and then carefully tucked it away in her chest pocket so that it lay just over her beating heart. She knew exactly where she was going to plant it, and the thought of it warmed her spirit. Some things never changed; sometimes there were constants beyond the regular undulations of life, novel certainties that were unique to a single heart.

Holly returned to the base of the tree, where she unhooked her wings from its lowest lying branch. It was while she was strapping them on when her communicator came to life, rousing her attention and, naturally, her hopes—she had only just left Fowl Manor, after a particularly long conversation with Artemis. She grabbed it and brought it up to her ear, while her eyes looked ahead towards the glittering creek. The voice that came through it was unmistakable, and the tone, unlike so many times over the last few months, was remarkably intimate.

" _Hello, Holly…"_

"Artemis," the elf said gently, her brow furrowing just a little as her mind picked up on the subtle difference in his voice. "Is everything alright?"

 _"I am quite fine, thank you,"_ he replied cordially—with a little less of the precision of intonation he usually employed, citing that something was really distracting him. _"After all that you have done for me, I cannot be anything but well."_

Holly felt her heartbeat increase as she heard those words—the way they were spoken, the subtle undertones. She immediately forgot everything around her, even the wondrous glitter of the stream, and spoke hurriedly. "Have you remembered anything? Anything at all? Tell me d'arvit!"

Artemis laughed gently on the other end, finding something humorous in her sudden panic—and something wonderful. _"You are as assertive as ever, my elven friend…"_ There was a pause in which he evidently smiled, followed by a disarmingly gentle statement, one that bespoke a feeling that no amount of _telling_ could instill, but only experience. _"Let's just say that I have a lot of catching up to do."_

Holly nearly dropped her communicator then and there, but by some other strength she held on to it, though she could barely speak. After a moment of shock she stammered a response. "Is that a yes, Artemis?"

" _That nosy centaur and his Mephistophelian contraptions are presently attempting to listen in on this conversation, to no avail I should mind you. No, I want to say this in person, Holly. You more than anyone deserve to know first…"_

Again, Holly was floored, completely overwhelmed by what she was hearing. She nearly could not pronounce what she said next, her mind was in such a whirlwind.

"Give me ten minutes."

" _For you, Holly, I would give a lifetime…"_

Holly had never moved so fast in her entire life; no gunfight or improbable adventure had instilled a greater sense of urgency and desperation than the one that filled her now. In mere seconds she retrieved her helmet and powered up her wings, and then, with a blast of rushing air, she took to the clear blue sky. The world was a blur, as were her thoughts, all caught up in the mighty tempest of her passion. Behind her loomed the ancient oak, steadfast in its endless watch over the riverside, and as she turned about and set a course for Fowl Manor, she looked down upon it one last time. She could feel the acorn in her pocket, resting above her rapidly beating heart, and its presence, along with all of the memories that served to give solid ground to her tempestuous life, instilled a profound calm that made her mind's chaotic workings pause. It was during that moment that she could look back on everything, on the very footsteps she had followed in, and feel the profound changing of the tide; a sudden completion to a lifelong struggle, and the start of something else. As she gazed upon the old oak, and then passed over the place where it all began, she found herself smiling the most content smile of her entire life. There was an end in all of this, a wonderful completion that heralded the turning of a page and the closing of a book. This finality filled her heart, but it was not with the bitterness of longing for what had passed, but joy and excitement for what was to come. This was the end indeed, but in every end, there was a new beginning. And so Holly flew towards that new start, that new life, while her eyes, dazzling in their blue and hazel, looked upon a beautiful world.

~The End~

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **Thus arrives the end of this tale. I would like to start by thanking all of you for reading this story, and for joining me on this adventure** **—an adventure that was supposed to be a short, ten chapter tale, but got a little out of hand** **. Thank you for taking the time to give meaning to the otherwise solitary words that I put together, and even more so thank you for your eloquent reviews, which made writing this all the more enjoyable. As I have said before, none of this would be possible without you, readers, because the whole point of writing this was to share it. And now that I have done so, it is my utmost hope that it was an enjoyable experience for you.  
**

 **This story was, as I stated at the beginning, an experiment with a few ideas, and as I said above it got a little out of hand. I did not expect it to run this long, and I certainly did not see half of its contents coming, but that's what I have come to love about it. It would seem that Artemis Fowl never fails to surprise me, and that surprise took a little over four months this time. I hope that the story and the characters I contrived for it were tolerable (I am always cautious about OCs, I try to make them fit in), and I also hope that the overall themes were acceptable. Anyway, I'm finished with all that, and this is the final product.**

 **To be honest, I feel a little unpleasant having reached the end of this ride, as I always do when finishing a story; call it a low-key version of post-partum for writers. But I won't bore you with my feelings about this being "the end." After all, every end is a new beginning, in that I will inevitably have to start writing something else lest I lose my mind in the vacuum of inaction.  
**

 **I will never again say that I am done with writing stories for Artemis Fowl, as I will likely end up being wrong again. Instead, I will leave the book open, in hopes that one day another chapter will come to mind. Until then, reader, I wish you the very best, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for reading and enjoying this story. I wish you a Merry Christmas and the very best in the coming new year. May wonder and adventure find you wherever you are, and bring a smile to your face.  
**

 **Sincerely,**

 **John Creel**


End file.
